Seal of Destiny
by Jason Strong
Summary: We know that after World War II, Zeus and Poseidon forced Hades to take an oath with them to have no more children. They had been having children for thousands of years before then, what happened during the war to make them change their mind?
1. Chapter 1

**Author: Jason Strong**

**Pairings: none**

**Rating/warning: T**

**Summary: We all know that after WWII, Zeus and Poseidon forced Hades to take a vow with them to stop having children. They had been having children for thousands of years before then, so what could've happened in that time frame for them to stop?**

**Notes: Same story I have on . **

**Charlotte, North Carolina, 1939**

We walked through the First Methodist Cemetery, a light rain patting our face, wind swaying the trees.

It was pitch black outside; I could hardly see a thing. But I didn't need to see anything; I knew where I was going. I'd been there at least ten times in the past year. The brown paper bag I kept clutched in my fist rattled with every step I took. The only loud noise around me though, was the footsteps of the half-blood I had only befriended, Cynthia, daughter of Ares.

"Ouch!" Cynthia called. "I swear, Greg, if you bring me out here one more time without a light..." her voice trailed off. She knew every time I came out here it was going to be a stressful night for me.

I stopped. I was at my destination. Third headstone of the third row. I got down on my knee, looking at the headstone, wiping rainwater from the slick surface. It read:

_Ms. Victoria Galvani, beloved friend and mother._

Even though it had been over two years, I still got emotional thinking about it. My mother had been the most wonderful woman in the world, I couldn't have lived without her, the things that she gave up for me... and then, just like that, I get home from school, and she's gone.

I opened the bag and reached in, grabbing the loaf of bread it contained. I tossed it on the grave. My hand fell over something cold; a glass bottle of pure white milk. I poured it over the bread, and got to my feet.

"Allow the dead to taste again," I spoke up, my voice raspy and deep, as it usually was. "Allow them to remember..."

The wind started to blow harder, and a low whisper traveled through the night air. I drew the sword that was sheathed against my side. The first ghost appeared, and headed for the food. I leveled my sword to them. "Stay back! The son of Hades commands you!"

The shade was that of a man, who was dressed in dark green pants and matching suspenders froze in place. More and more ghosts came from their grave. "Keep them back," I ordered Cynthia. She drew her spear. I watched the grave intently, waiting for my mother to arise. Nothing.

More ghosts materialized from behind her grave. The cemetery was becoming restless. I made a silent prayer to my father, hoping my mother would show soon, or before the ghosts woke the neighbors.

"Please, mother, please," I begged, looking behind me, the ghosts were starting to corner Cynthia, backing her against the chain-linked fence.

"Back off!" She yelled at the ghosts. "Greg, a little help, please?"

I gave the grave one more pleading glance; still nothing. I gripped my sword, the black Stygian iron so cold I could feel its chill against my leg. I walked towards the crowd of ghosts, lashing out at the first ghost I saw. My sword passed effortlessly through the creature, causing them to disappear in a light smoke-like mist.

"My son," a light, poetic voice came from behind me before I even had a chance to swing at another ghost. I turned around, hope filling through my body.

"Mother!" I cried, she stood over her grave, looking disaprovingly down at the soggy rain soaked bread.

"I think I'll pass on the bread, thank you," she said as I rushed towards her. I sheathed my sword.

"Mother I—it's been so long." I said, wanting to hug her, but knowing I couldn't, and would never get to again.

"Has it?" she asked. "You lose your since of time when you're dead. It hasn't seemed to be too long to me."

My heart sank, it had been three months since my mom had responded to my summon. I couldn't help but to think that my visits to her wouldn't mean the same thing to her as it did to me. Lightning lit up the night sky overhead.

"Oh," I said, looking down. There was a short period of silence.

"What year is it now?" My mom asked. "Still 1939?"

"Yeah," I told her. She paused for a second. I listened as Cynthia struggled with the ghosts.

"There's something on your mind, isn't there?" she asked. She was wearing the clothes she had died in—her gym clothes, sweat pants and a matching sweat shirt that she had been jogging in when the car hit her. I could still see the picture in my mind of her on the stretcher, a white sheet pulled over her head, the driver of the car sobbing as the police interrogated her, she looked at me, and started crying harder. The police ushered me to come with them, but instead, I took off in a run. Guided by instinct and sorrow.

I shifted uncomfortably. "What would make you think that?" Her facial expression changed to a soft, concerned look.

"A mother can tell," she told me. I looked into her colorless eyes, and stared for a while. Tears formed in my eyes, and the rain around us started coming down harder.

"We're killing each other, Ma," I told her. She blinked in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"Us," I said, as if that would clear things up. "The children of the Big Three. Even the minor Olympian's children are being brought into it."

I waited for a response, but she said nothing, she just stared at me. Last time I saw her, I had been a tad shorter than the five-foot-five woman, now I stood at her height.

"There's another fight going on between the three gods, about the war going on right now-"

"World War II?" she asked, interrupting me.

I nodded. "I don't know too much, but I know that Zeus and Poseidon are siding with the Allies, and Hades with the Axis. The war between them has gotten so bad, it seems that they have forgotten about the real war."

"So what does this have to do with their children?" She asked.

"A few weeks ago, Poseidon sent five of his kids to attack a group of my bothers that were at the school house, because of something Hades had done to a group of American Axis."

"What did he do?" She asked, curious.

"He turned a hell hound loose on them, killing all six of them. But after Poseidon's children ambushed my brothers, Hades was outraged. He sent me, and two of my sisters to fight with the Furies against the two cabins at Camp Half-Blood."

"They're having their own side war," My mom said, figuring it out.

"There's more," I told her. "The other gods are starting to choose sides, causing even further arguments on Olympus. I fear that soon, there will be armies established between the two sides."

"Most likely..." she said.

"I'm being relocated," I said all of a sudden. "That's why I came here."

"What?" My mom asked. "To where?"

"Germany to start," I said, looking down. "But I'll probably be doing some heavy traveling. I don't want to go... and Hades doesn't care."

"Gregory," My mom started. "Your father... he... well he, oh, confound it all! Let's tell the truth, your father doesn't care about you, or any of his children."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"I mean to say, he doesn't know what you're already put through, because he hasn't witnessed it first-hand like I have."

"Give me a break," I said, "he knows."

"Oh yes," she said. "Don't get me wrong, he knows. Just not to the full extent."

"Um, Greg." Cynthia cried out, trying to lead the ghosts away from the fence. "Could we hurry up? There are too many." There was a ghost coming for the bread that still lay on the ground, soggy wet. I unsheathed my sword again and swiped at it, it disappeared into the night.

"I don't have much time left," My mom admitted after a while.

"I know," I told her. "I wish I could go back with you."

She looked at me immediately. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I really do," I said. "I think about it everyday. I've considered... killing myself." What I didn't tell her was that I had already _tried _killing myself.

"But..." she began, I interrupted.

"My life sucks, mom!" I told her, voice cracking.

"Gregory!" She yelled. "Don't ever use that kind of language."

"I'm sorry," I said, looking down, then back up really fast. "But it does. As if it's not enough being a half-blood, but I have to be a son of the Big Three... and I'm not to thrilled of which of them is my father, either."

"My son," she said, raising her hand to my face, it passed through my cheek, I didn't even feel it. "You're strong, smart, and tough as a nail. Your father... he needs you, whether you like it or not, he is your father... you owe him that much." She disappeared for a moment and flashed back into existence.

"Mom..."

"You're almost a man of fourteen, you are old enough to make your own decisions." She continued.

"So you think I should rebel against Hades and stay in America?" I asked.

"But," she persisted, ignoring my question. "You are also old enough to know that with every decision, comes a consequence. In this case, you'd make your father mad by refusing his order, and he's not one to irritate." A tear finally slid down my cheek.

"I miss you, mom." I told her.

"I miss you too," she said. "I love you."

Her last word was stretched long as her spirit was yanked back into the Underworld. A hand slid over my shoulder.

"You'll see her again," Cynthia said. She pushed her wet red hair over her shoulder.

"No," I said. "No I won't. I can't raise her spirit outside the country she died in." My shirt was soaked, and my pants the same. Cynthia's hair was matted to her forehead. Her hand stayed on my shoulder. She was oddly sympathetic for a daughter to Ares.

I had a feeling that this was only the beginning, that many more would die before this war came even close to ending. The blood of innocent demigods would be shed, and spilled all over the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I'm happy with the response that this story received, even though it wasn't as many reviews I was hoping for. I'm going to so some thing rather special for this story, each chapter, I'm going to dedicate to a person who has helped me develop my writing skills. **

**This chapter is going to be dedicated to Athena0228. I've had the honor of knowing her personally, and I have read and beta read her stories. The reason I'm dedicating this chapter to her is because she did let me be her beta reader, it was a great honor, and it helped me to learn through her mistakes... you know, looking at her work and noticing that I do the same thing.**

**So, Athena, this one's for you. **

The hot, spring sun warmed my face, sending the first warm wave through my body. For most of the night, I had been shivering, because I was wet during the night. I was surprised I wasn't coughing or sneezing, or that I didn't have a fever of 101 degrees.

My eyes opened reluctantly, they were almost pasted shut by rainwater and eye gunk. My shirt was still damp and clung to my ribcage. I could still hear the wind patting against the small storage shed I had been sleeping in for months. As I sat up, the floor creaked, awaking Cynthia, who was lying next me. She sat up, leaned against the wall, and stretched her arms.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Who cares?" I asked, knowing how irritable I was being. She shoved her red hair behind her ears. She watched attentively as I made my way into the corner of the room. The storage closet we were in was never made for sleeping, it was no bigger than a walk-in closet, and some spots of the floor was covered in black, and fuzzy-like mold. The only window that was available to look out, had a large, baseball sized hole in it, allowing the cool night air to creep in while I slept. I couldn't count how many times I had woke up in the morning with the sniffles or a cough.

I yanked up my pack from the floor and looked her square in the eyes. She stared back.

"When did the furies say they were gathering you guys up?" she asked softly, watching me as I sat against the windowsill.

"They didn't," I explained. "But it doesn't matter." She stood up, her face suddenly darkening.

"Why?" There was a hint of mild concern in her voice. I didn't answer. "Greg? Why wouldn't it matter?" she repeated.

"I'm not going," I said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"What?" She asked, in a nervous frustration. "You can't do that."

"The hell I can't!" I snapped. "I'd like to see anyone stop me." I reached for the door.

"Your father will!" She persisted. "If you defy him, he'll..."

"He'll what?" I asked in a sarcastic tone. "Kill me? Good. Great, he'll finally do something that is in my interest."

"You don't mean that," she insisted. I slung my pack over my shoulder.

"Yeah, I really do, actually." I said, in a calmer tone. I could faintly see the tip of my black hair at the tip of my brows. "This life, the life that I'm living...it's not a life I—or anyone in this world should live. And this war—the one that the gods are dragging us into... it's not my problem. This is strictly between Poseidon, Hades, and Zeus." I looked at her. She completely understood what I was saying. Every half-blood would. It's the same life, no matter your parentage these days. And in these ages, every half-blood that is not at camp, is frowned upon in public, due to the fact that we were all illegitimate children. Some of the parents made up stories to keep their reputation. The most common excuse used was that their spouse was dead. My mom told everyone that my father had business to do in the west. Which wasn't a lie.

"At least tell me where you're going?" She demanded, but it came out as a question.

"I don't know," I admitted, feeling my cheeks flash red.

"Seriously?" She asked, placing her hand on her hips. I quickly changed the subject.

"You can't tell me you've never done something your father wouldn't approve of." I told her. She grinned a satisfied smile.

"I do everything my father says,"

"Really?" I asked. "So he'd approve of the dress you're wearing?" She looked down at her pink-plaid dress as if she had forgotten she was wearing it. The dress went down to just over her knees, and she had muddy white socks pulled up to her upper shin. She had been complaining about her father would tell her 'dresses make you look weak, any daughter of mine shouldn't wear a dress, and if they do, I will not be happy.' But, to the best of my knowledge, Ares was never happy.

"No," she admitted. "But wearing a dress nowadays is the only way for a lady to be accepted in modern society."

She was no ordinary daughter of Ares. She was the one person, besides my mother, that I'd hate to part with.

"I should get going," I said, gripping the knob of the wooden door.

"Wait!" she said suddenly, placing her hand on my arm. "Please," her eyes begged me. "You don't know where you're going, or who you're going to meet. So please, if you're not going to Germany, come back to camp with me."

"I told you already," I said without hesitation. "I can't go back to that camp. Obviously, I'm not wanted. There's no cabin there, and I don't think the Zeus and Poseidon cabin would be to thrilled either."

"Who cares what they think?" she exclaimed. "You can stay in the Hermes cabin."

"Hmm..." I began sarcastically. "Sleeping on the floor in a small cramped cabin with a seven year-old brat next to me breathing in my face and snoring louder than a Cadillac motor? No thanks, I'd rather stay on the street."

"But-"

"Listen, Cynthia, you go back to camp. There's no reason for you to stay, I'm fine now... almost. But I can take care of myself, and camp is simply not my place." I told her for the hundredth time. I sheathed my sword against my side. She had come all the way from Camp after I had an...incident.

"If camp's not your place, than where is it?" She prodded, crossing her arms.

"I don't know."

--1--

I walked into the café, the breakfast aroma swirling around in my nostrils. Beacon and eggs, sausage and biscuits, my stomach growled, this would be my first real meal in weeks. I had been forced to eat scraps from all over Charlotte—anything I could find. At one point, I had been so hungry, I ate a buttery roll that had been thrown out by a restaurant days before. I could still taste the hard, crunchy crust of the roll, and the slipperiness of the surface from the butter. The smell was unbearable, and the taste wasn't much better. But you do what you have to.

The warning bell as I stepped through the door. A waitress with a short curly haircut with bandanna stretched across her head acknowledged me, gesturing with her head towards a table as she took the order of another customer.

I slid into a leather booth, snatching the cap that covered my greasy unclean hair. I placed it in my lap. I looked around. My breakfast would come soon; there was only one other person in the diner. I slid my hand over the menu, a thick black material was the outside cover, embroidered in a glimmering gold. On the front cover, there was a black-and-white picture. Two people, a man and woman, looking not older than thirty-five each, posed in front of a 1932 V-8 Ford. The man had the woman hoisted up in the air, his arm supporting her rear end. She was wearing a long sleeved shirt with a light cloth dress on top of it. A bonnet gripped her head, and her arms draped over the man's neck. He wore a suit with a tie that draped to his lower stomach. In his free hand, he held a western hat.

I recognized them immediately. They were the out-laws of the decade, the legendary Bonnie and Clyde. Famous for their various crimes, including robbery, grand theft, and murder.

There was one thing that was unsettling about this picture. They were smiling. Two of the biggest out-laws in American History, and they were... smiling. And I'm not talking 'smile for the camera' smiling. They were happy, laughing and having a good time.

"Beautiful, ain't they?" I looked up. The waitress towered over me, staring down at me, notepad in hand. She tapped the menu in my hand with her pencil. "You ready to order, or you just been starin' at that picture?"

"No, I'm not ready yet." I told her. She glanced down at the picture again.

"That Bonnie was sure a pretty girl, wasn't she?" I looked down timidly, and then met her eyes again.

"Yes ma'am," I said politely, truthfully. She flipped her curly blond hair over her shoulder and continued to talk, placing her pencil in between her lips.

"Now, you let me know when you're ready to order," she said, tightening the apron that was tied around her waist. I looked around her. There was a picture of the same Ford that Bonnie and Clyde posed in front of, except that in this side profile of the vehicle, the passenger door was wide open, exposing at least twenty bullet holes cut into the metal of the door.

"Excuse me," I said to the waitress. "How did Bonnie and Clyde get caught?I kind of... lost touch with the news as their... crime spree came to an end." Part of that was true... around the time that Bonnie and Clyde were apprehended in 1934—the same year my mother died 5 years ago, I was found by a group of traveling half-bloods just outside Alabama and was dragged off to Camp Half-Blood. The waitress spared a glance at the picture I was looking at.

"They weren't exactly caught. They were shot, actually," she out her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. "Right outside their hideout in Louisiana. They definitely asked for death, what, with all the crimes they'd done. But I ain't gonna' say that they deserved it." she looked towards the kitchen. "Call me when you're ready to order."

As she walked away, my heart dropped. This restaurant was decorated with Bonnie and Clyde. In fact, it seemed to be the theme of the place. And, on so many levels, I could relate to them. Constantly on the run, fearing for your life, knowing that you could never turn back to your old life. But, the one thing I couldn't relate to was the fact that they seemed to be happy with their life. Another picture, Bonnie was leaning against the Ford, this time by herself, arms crossed over her chest, smiling like a fashion model. Hearing about their life a few minutes ago seemed to be the only time I could remember since my mom died that I didn't feel suicidal.

I shook these thoughts from my mind, and finally cracked open the menu. I looked down the rows and columns of food, they all sounded so good, but then again, I hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. A gizzard would probably have sounded appealing at that point.

"From what I understand, you're planning on skipping Germany?" A course voice asked. I looked up, the shade of a thin black woman wrapped in dirt colored rags for clothes. It was Elana, a guardian appointed to me from my father.

"So?" I asked, not glancing up from my menu. "I guess my father sent me to talk you out of it?"

From the top of my eyes, I saw her place her hands on the table. "Yes," she said. I was expecting more, but she stopped at that.

"You can see why I wish death on myself, right? You can relate?" I lowered my menu.

"Yes, yes I can," I could barely see the ghost in the daylight, but it was still clear enough for me to see the remembrance in her eyes. Elana had been a slave at the very beginning of America's foundation. She had had four children, and watched as each of them were sold one-by-one. Her husband had died long before they were sold from a sickness she wouldn't describe. All she ever told me was that it was bad. She, herself had died from an infection of a wound from where her master had beaten her, and even as she was dying, the man made her work, and every time she slowed down, he'd whip her with a strap of leather with a nail tied at the end.

"Was there ever a time in your life where you felt as if things would finally play out in your favor, then have it ripped out from under you?" I asked, noticing the waitress and the staff around her watching me, she held a tray of food in her hands, and was slowly making her way over to the other customer's table. To me, seeing and interacting with a person. But to the mortals, there was just a psycho kid talking to himself.

"In fact, there was," she said, leaning back in her booth. "Right before my husband died, there was talk of escape among all the slaves. We never saw each other face-to-face, but, even back then there were ways to get gossip around. For the first time since my enslavement, I felt like there was an ounce of hope for me, my husband and two children," she stopped, her eyes in deep thought, and then she added. "I was pregnant at the time, and my fourth child came sometime later."

"So what happened?" I asked. She looked me straight in the eyes.

"The first man to try the escape was a slave that was to the north of me, didn't know him, not even his name. But as I was working in the corn fields one day, I heard a whisper through the fence. It was the slave next door I guess, I really don't know, but it was a woman's voice. She warned me not to try an escape, the slave who tried first had stolen his master's horse and escaped by horseback, but he was cutoff in no time, taken back to his master where he was beaten to death."

I was stunned. I couldn't tell exactly, but it seemed to me that Elana had had a life that was _as _bad or worse than mine. But I also felt relief, knowing that my life could be worse, knowing that Elana and I had suffered through similar situations. Deaths, pain, fear.

"It was really that bad?" I asked finally.

She nodded. "I will never forget the way my master would look as he beat one of us, the fire behind his dark brown eyes as he whipped us, and hit us across the head or face with whatever was available. It seemed to me he beat the children even harder."

"He beat the children?" I asked, my blood boiling.

"But of course," she replied. "Even as they weren't even a year old, he'd beat them because they wouldn't stop crying. I even remember him beating them when they were children. I'd stand from a close distance and beg for him to show mercy to them, that they were just children. Or I'd beg him to beat me instead. I would cry furiously as they did. He always responded that it would be better for them to learn at an early age." she looked at me, I couldn't see to well, but it looked like a tear was sliding down her transparent face. "Do you realize what it was like for me to watch my own children be beat to tears and blood?"

I shook my head. "Can't even imagine." So her life had been worse than mine... so far. "I guess my father's the same to you?"

She shrugged. "Not really, he never lays a hand on a soul."

"You want to hear something that even _I_ think about and laugh?" I asked her.

"Sure,"

"On one of the visits I had with my mother at the cemetery, she told me that she was attracted to my father because he was a pure romantic. He would say just the right things at the right time, and he even left notes for her that appeared mysteriously in her bedchamber."

"What's funny about that?" she asked. "Sounds sweet."

"But get this," I continued. "She said he was Lord of the Dance." I expected at least a snicker, but she just stared back at me. I guess it was just funny to me, something about imagining my father doing the Charleston or some other funky dance. The waitress approached me.

"Find anything?" she asked.

"Yeah," I told her. "I'll have the Texan sandwich." She nervously jotted the order on her notepad and took it to the kitchen. Something about talking to a nutcase...

I looked back at Elana. "Why did my father assign you to me instead of a Fury or someone?"

She shrugged. "I don't have the foggiest idea. I guess he thought we'd make a good match after your...accident."

I sighed. "I told you already. It was no accident. I slit my wrist on purpose."

She looked down.

"I'm still not going to Germany," I protested.

"Fine," she said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I can't make you go. But know this: when your father finds out, all three furies will be out looking for you within the hour."

"Like I care," I exclaimed. "They can't punish me. Hades's only suitable punishment is death, and if he kills me, I will be grateful."

"Don't underestimate the Lord of the Dead, if you do, you will have an eve greater surprise than what's to come."

And with that, she faded away, fading away into nothingness.

The diner grew quiet. The only sound was the sizzling of the meat that would go on my sandwich. And as I waited, I went into deep thought.

--2--

I hustled down the sidewalk, slapping my cap back on my head. Looking behind me, I broke into a run. No, I wasn't running from anything. I was running _to _something. I ran past people, pushing through them and jumping over roots that cracked through the sidewalk, until I came across the place I was looking for.

The Blue Lake. A privately owned lake in the middle of the city. I slowed to a walk, and headed straight for the dock. Tension built up within me, the same tension that I knew from when I slit my wrist. My heart pounded, half from running for so long, and half from anxiety. I was sweating nervously as I approached the dock.

After talking with Elana, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to get it over with. End my life. The way I was seeing it; I was going to live for sixty or so more years, and if they were any thing like my first fourteen, they'd be filled with fear, and depression. Things would happen to me, heartbreaking things that would give me years of sorrow. And then, I'd have the rest of eternity in the Underworld to have to relive those things in my memories. But, I figured if I ended it now, those memories wouldn't happen, and I might not suffer through sixty more years of torture in the Realm of the Living, and suffer with those memories forever. You could tell that Elana still suffered from the heartbreaks that she went though during her life, and that was over one hundred years ago!

If my plan worked, I could stop my heartbreak before it even began.

The Big Three would kill the other's children if they crossed into their domain, so if I were to jump into the lake...

Without thinking a second time, I pounced, watching as the I came closer to the water....

A hand gripped my suspenders, yanking me back onto the dock. I heard the small _snap! _Of the latches that held my dark green suspenders to my pants as they came unsnapped, and before I could do anything, my pants were around my ankles. I quickly yanked them up, looking around. No one was watching. But, the hand that still gripped my shirt tightened. She hadn't even cracked a smile.

I looked upon the face of the Fury. "Megaera," I growled, distinguishing her from her sisters'.

"Are you insane?" She snapped.

"Sometimes I think so," I told her. Her eyes began to glow a bright red. She ignored my comment.

"Your father will not be please at your second attempt."

"Darn!" I cried sarcastically, adding a small snap. "Because I just _live _to please that dictator."

"Where have you been, anyhow?" She persisted. "You're going to miss your departure."

"Psh, I'm not going to Germany," I pulled from her grasp. "Find some other kid to push around."

She glared at me. "You will not speak up to me, and you _will _to to Germany."

"I will not!" I yelled. "You can't make me."

"Your father will punish you..." Her voice trailed off.

"With what? A stern lecture? He has no control over me anymore! His only punishment is death, and as you've just seen, I wouldn't mind that." I rebelled.

She grinned a twisted smile. "Your father thought you'd say that. You should know he's initiated a punishment just for you."

My brow twisted on my forehead. I wasn't expecting that. Her fangs jarred from her mouth. She was trying to scare me, but she didn't. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"He created a punishment just for you."

"Oh?" I asked calmly, as if this was no big news, but fear started to trickle up my spine.

"Yes. Instead of killing you, he'll let you live." She explained. A confused look crossed my face. Lame punishment so far. "He'd also grant you the curse of immortality."

I shrugged. "So? That's not so bad."

"That's not all. He'd torture you by constantly sending monsters after you, he told me he'd rip away every person you get close to by having them killed." She grinned again. "Just as he did your mother."

Color washed over my face. I wanted to punch the hag in the face. She had no right to be saying the things she was saying. "Is that what you want?" she asked. I managed a smug look.

"Yes," I said, crossing my arms. "That's exactly what I want."

She looked down at me, she was at least a head taller than I. "That's not what you want. You know that, and I know that." She grabbed my forearm with a tight grip, and dragged me off. I had no choice. I had to go with her. I was going to Germany.

Wait a second...

"Hey!" I said, yanking my arm from her. "How are we supposed to get to another country? It's not like we can take a train. Boats and passenger planes are off limits, too."

She got another solid firm grip on my arm. "Easy. You're going to be taking The Labyrinth."


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is going to be dedicated to someone I've had the pleasure of working on a very successful story. Ellen 26. She was my first PJO reviewer, and so that inspired me to name a character off of her, since then we've been in constant communication. I'm usually expecting an email from her in my inbox, and I'm surprised if there's not one.**

**So, Ellen, this one goes out to you. **

Having an old hag drag you across Charlotte wasn't exactly the best reputation builder. I had been in North Carolina for at least three weeks, and had been apprehended at least four times by countless enemies.

But none of that compared to what I was feeling now. It was like someone had ripped out my pulsating heart with their bare hands, had thrown it to the ground and kicked it like a soccer ball into a wood chipper. I never blamed my mother's death on Hades, but what Megaera was saying made it sound like he was behind her death. That if he hadn't interfered, I'd still have my mom with me today. My eyes were practically flooded with tears, but I held them back. I wasn't about to give the Fury the advantage of seeing me cry.

Megaera dragged me down the street, on almost the same exact path I had just taken, except she took a sharp right in between two buildings, and led me through a grimy alleyway. She clutched the upper part of my arm, her thumbs digging into my muscles. I had a feeling that there would be a bruise on my arm in the morning.

As we passed the single metal cans and loose bags of trash, the aroma of stale and rotten food crossed with an overwhelming scent of cigarette smoke danced through my nostrils, making me choke. As we strode through the alley, I noticed that it was a dead end. A large wooden fence blocked the exit, a sign attached to it saying _Private Property: Trespassers will be prosecuted. _Once we stood directly in front of the fence, she released my arm, a wave of relief flowed through my body as blood finally was able to travel through my arm.

"Over," she demanded, gesturing to the fence. She had taken up the form of a semi-elderly woman, she crossed her arms.

I looked at her for a second, she impatiently gestured to the fence with her head. I awkwardly walked to the fence, hopelessly reaching for the top. I was _way _too short. I jumped, grabbing, but only swiping through thin air. "It's too tall," I informed her.

She rolled her eyes. "Be creative, you're a son of Hades."

Be creative? What did she mean by that? Was I supposed to sprout wings and just _fly _over the top?

"Something? Anything?" she was getting restless. I stood, staring at her, and she rolled her eyes once more, as if I was stupidest half-blood she'd ever come across. "In the future, you will have to work through situations without help of me, or anyone else. As a child of the Big Three, you will be expected to take charge. That means using your powers as often as necessary. But for now-" she extended her arm, instinctively, I stepped back. There was a slight change in the atmosphere around us, as a cracking noise popped in my eardrums. As I watched, the wood began to split, and timber that had been forced to separate in half fell to the ground, clattering against the pavement.

The whole ordeal was over within seconds, but I stood there, in shock. I had seen magic at work before, but never like that. It had a different vibe to it.

Before me, stood a tall hotel, chipping pink paint and broken windows were the first sign it was unoccupied. But there was something different, something off balance, as if in that very hotel was the presence of death. I could sense it.

"In this hotel lies one of the only entrances into the Labyrinth in North and South Carolina." Megaera explained. I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand as I looked to the top of the building. A large black crow perched itself at the roof of the abandoned hotel, watching us intently.

We pressed on, and as we drew closer to the door, the feeling of death got stronger, overwhelming my body. But, I wasn't afraid of death, I embraced it. And I still wanted to kill Megaera, but I wasn't looking to become immortal. As we reached the door, the Fury rushed ahead of me, she twisted the golden doorknob and pushed. The hinges of the door protested loudly as Megaera attempted to open the door.

"We were just in here an hour ago!" She yelled at the door, as if that would budge it. "Do you want to end up like the fence?"

And I thought _I _was psycho. Finally, after a few more seconds of struggle, we entered the lobby of the long-abandoned building.

Light streamed in through the window, setting an eerie contrast on the floor. Sheets covered the furniture, and a smooth, perfectly polished table sat in the middle of the room. To the side, sat a dusty tan desk, with a leather-bound guest log. The Fury hurried behind the desk, flipping open a latch in the wall, and flipping the electrical breaker. The room lit to life, allowing me to see all the way across the room, where elevator doors separated, beckoning us to enter.

If it had been anyone else but Megaera escorting me, I would've asked why no one had canceled the electricity in an abandoned building, but since it was her, I didn't say a thing. And I didn't plan to. She led me to the elevator, and gave me a light push in.

"You are to press the button that says _Basement _three times, that will take you to the Labyrinth. There, you will meet with the girls who will accompany you to Germany."

Without saying anything, I pressed the button three times, and the doors slid closed. Light elevator music hummed in the background. My stomach churned as the elevator descended unsteadily.

I thought about Hades, and what Megaera had said. _Just like he did with your mother. _I thought about the wicked grin that had unfolded on her face as she said those terrible words.

_But, that can't be true, can it? _I thought. Even though I knew it probably was. And, even if Hades denied it, there would still be that...that hint of doubt that would always nag at my brain. I would never look at the Lord of the Dead the same again.

_Ding! _Chimed the elevator, and the doors slid open, exposing nothing but darkness. I nervously readjusted the backpack on my shoulder and stepped into the shadow.

"Hello?" I called. There was no response. I lifted my arms out, feeling for the walls of the cavern, walking slowly to the right. When suddenly, my hands hit something cold and hard.

"Hello?" I called again, feeling along the side of the wall. I could hear the echo of my voice, accompanied by hushed whispers. It was them.

"Hey!" I called, rounding a corner_. _I could smell the dampness in the air, the whispers got more frantic. Suddenly, I could see them. Two figures casting shadows along the walls against the dim light of a candle. They looked at me. I could clearly see a girl, with her red hair tied into two separate braids, freckles painted across her face.

"Cynthia?" I asked, trying to get a better look.

"Greg?" Her voice protruded through the darkness. She, and the girl next to her placed their candles higher in the air, as if trying to get a better look.

"You two know each other?" The other girl asked.

"For a while now," Cynthia explained. Her eyes fixed on me.

"What are you even doing here?" I asked her. "I thought you would be on your way back to camp."

"I was," she told me. "But, as I was on my way to the train station, I got an Iris Message from Chiron. He told me that Ares had sided with Hades and that it would be in my best interest not to come back to camp anytime soon. Of course, he had no clue I was planning on returning right then."

"What about your siblings?" I asked, not really concerned.

"They're being evacuated."

"Sorry to umm... you know, interrupt," Began the other girl, she seemed nervous. "But we have big problems."

Being the nice person I am, I snapped at her. "Who are you?"

She seemed to back up further into the darkness. "I'm Estelle, Daughter of Demeter."

"Demeter?" I asked skeptically. "All the half-bloods on earth and they send me a daughter of Demeter?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, offended. "I may not be a daughter of the Big Three, but Demeter is born from the same parents."

I looked at her, somewhat surprised. I hadn't even seen her face, yet we were already at each other's throats. But I had a reason, I hadn't really had a good day. "It's no secret the children of Demeter aren't the best fighters."

She stepped forward, I could see her figure cross her arms over her chest. "You think so?"

"Pretty sure,"

"I guess we'll find out." She said, sounding something like a threat. There was a pause, and a cold chill passed through the air. I don't know why I hadn't realized it first, but the Labyrinth _was_ the aura of death I was feeling. I had heard of it, and had always been fearful of it. I knew people could go insane, or even die in these tunnels.

"So..." Cynthia said. "What _problems _do we have exactly?"

"For starters," Estelle began. "We're in caverns that stretch across the entire world, and we haven't the slightest clue where we're headed. Also, we're going to need water. I can take care of food, seeing my mother _is _the goddess of agriculture. I have one jar of water on me, though." In the shadows, I saw her look at each of us, as if expecting us to say _I have water! _But neither of us did.

"Alright, what we're going to need to do-"

"Do you hear that?" Cynthia interrupted.

"Hear what?" I asked, listening hard, but not hearing anything.

"I think it's... singing?" Estelle asked, raising her candle, giving me the first good glance at her face, exposing her light brown hair and fair cocoa-colored skin.

Then, I heard it.

"_-over Jordan, and what did I see? Coming for to carry me home! A band of angels, comin' after me!"_

The music echoed softly through the Labyrinth. I unsheathed my sword, instantly feeling the coldness of the blade. "You think it's a friend or enemy?" Cynthia asked me.

"Do I_ look_ like the oracle?" I asked harshly, rolling my eyes. "Either way, they're not doing a very good job of staying undercover." I started walking into the darkness. All I had to lead me was the soft sound of the singing. I hoped I wouldn't get us lost. It was like shooting an arrow into the pits of Tartarus, and hoping to hit Kronos. We pressed on, my sword held at an awkward position, my free hand brushing against the walls of the Labyrinth.

The singing turned into a somewhat low, humming sound that buzzed through the air, penetrating the usually-silent maze. As we drew closer, the sound grew louder, and I could vaguely begin to see the dim glow of a candle.

_Must be around a corner, _I thought. _If it wasn't, we would've seen the candlelight long before. _

"Do you see-" Cynthia began, but I rushed my hand to her face, silencing her. Slowly we crept towards the light, and with each step my blade grew heavier in my hand. Who knew what types of monsters were hidden in this ancient maze? Would Hades still punish me if I died on this quest? Would he really raise me from the dead to make me immortal just because I failed him? There was no way to tell for sure, but my instincts told me he would.

The humming had returned to singing. Hearing it from a closer point, I realized that it was indeed a woman. A sphinx, maybe? Possible, but highly unlikely, due to the fact I'd never heard a sphinx sing. I stopped as the light from the candle lit up the sharp corner. I let my hands slip slightly over the cold stone. My heart was beating at a faster rate than I had ever felt it beat. What if I did die down here? Would Hades truly see it as failure, or would he see it as a son dieing preforming the wishes of his father?

There was no time to dwell, and I figured I'd find out soon enough, one way or another. I jumped the corner, as if I thought I was some crazy ninja, sword extended as far as my arm would let it. I looked at the face exposed by the candlelight, expecting to see the face that would send me to my father's realm, but instead, I saw—

"Elana?" I asked, keeping my sword leveled to her face. Cynthia, and Estelle—whom I still hadn't known very well, had gathered behind me.

The ghost looked at me, a _No duh! _look in her eyes. "No... I'm the queen of England, I just dress up as Elana on my free time because it makes me feel pretty." she eyed my sword nervously. "Now put that thing away. There ain't a reason on earth to be swinging it that freely. It's not a toy, you know."

I rolled my eyes and sheathed the sword. "What are you doing here, anyway?" It came out nastier than I intended. She stood up, hands on her hips. She was at least my height.

"Are you using a tone with me?" she asked, almost mother-like.

"No, I just—" She interrupted me.

"Yes sir, you most certainly are. Have a seat." She gestured to the floor around her. We all three sat in unison, as if rehearsed. There was a short moment of silence, and then Estelle spoke up.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm just curious... are you a... a um..."

"Ghost?" Elana offered. Estelle nodded grimly, and Elana smiled almost wickedly. "Why yes, yes I am." Estelle gulped, and Elana turned to Cynthia. "You must be the daughter of Ares I've heard so much about."

My cheeks flashed briefly red. "I guess," said Cynthia with a smile.

"Elana, what are you doing here?" I repeated my question from earlier. "I just talked to you like an hour ago. And why are you sitting in the darkest place on earth, while singing?"

"Well, as I came back to the Underworld after our little chat, I was immediately summoned to Hades's palace. After grumbling to Charon about how the god of the dead was going to have to start paying my way across the river—and if you know the Underworld, you know that from where I row from, it takes a good thirty minutes or so to get to the Throne Room. But Hades told me of the cruel punishment he threatened you with. I practically screamed in his face."

"You yelled at the Lord of the Dead?" Estelle asked, astonished.

Elana shrugged. "What can he do? I'm already dead."

"Point taken."

Now that I had a better look due to the larger candle, I could see that Estelle was rather beautiful. She had long wavy black hair, and flawless mocha-colored skin. Her eyes were a sweet and chocolate-like. Though, first impression did tell a lot about a person, and she and I hadn't had the best greeting. I could tell that we wouldn't even come close to being friends.

"Hades told me," Elana continued. "That there was no other way to motivate you."

"Probably right," I said, pessimistically.

"Wrong," Elana corrected, as if she knew me better than I knew myself. "Very wrong."

"I don't think so, either," Cynthia said.

"I don't exactly know how to put this," Elana went on. "But your father told me that if you follow your commanders' every wish, he'll give you the thing you want most in your life."

I swallowed hard.

"What?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"He'll give you your mother back."

--1--

Beside me, Cynthia gasped, covering her mouth with her palm. I was stunned, and for the second time today, tears stung at the back of my eyeballs. That's more crying than I usually did in a year.

"He's evil," I murmured. "Plain evil."

Elana looked at me, eyes wide with sympathy. "He's trying to motivate you."

"Yeah, well, he's going about it all wrong." I told her bitterly. I turned away, towards the wall so no one could look at my face. "Who's my commander?" My voice bounced off the stone wall and echoed through the darkness.

Elana hesitated, but reluctantly answered. "Any of the Three Furies that choose to take on the task." Just then, was the moment it all soaked in. I could have my mother back, but what was the price. My life? My cousins' lives? I felt as if the room around me was shrinking, and every second I was more closed off.

"I hate the Furies," I announced.

"Is there anything you don't hate?" Asked Estelle. I could hear Cynthia whisper something to her and she continued. "What? I just met him today, and he wasn't the nicest grape in the bunch."

There was another long pause. As if everyone was waiting on me. It was Estelle's first day with me, and she had probably already figured out the drama that took place in my everyday life. I turned around to face Elana.

"Let me guess, there's also something they want me to do while I'm in the Labyrinth?"

She bit her almost transparent lower lip. "Not exactly," she explained. "They want you to recruit someone for them before you reach the Erebian Stronghold."

I threw my hands up in annoyance, not willing to speak. As if picking up on this hint, Cynthia chimed in. "Who?"

"The great Achilles," Elana said, almost as if the ancient warrior was a king.

"No!" Cried Estelle, startling me. 

"What?" Cynthia asked, seemingly confused. "Why not? He's supposed to be the greatest warrior who ever lived."

"Key word: _supposed._" Estelle said matter-of-fact tone.

"What are you _talking _about?" I demanded. My frustration coming through in my voice.

Estelle took a deep breath. "Achilles, in myths, was a great warrior who defeated everything that stood in his way. In reality, every victory he had was great luck, his mother watching over him, some think."

"What?" Cynthia asked disbelievingly. "That's... impossible. It can't be true!"

"But it is," Estelle assured her with a nod. "I've seen it myself. He owns a computer repair store in Germany, a year ago, when the evidence of this war was apparent to Chiron, he got worried, knowing that—like the last World War-- the gods would have their own... side bet. He thought that if Achilles were to fight, more people would get hurt. He seemed to think that Achilles's mother—who had died years before, might still be protecting him, making him once again, unstoppable. So, Chiron sent me to Germany with a pomegranate from my sister, Persephone's garden, hoping I would talk him into taking a bite, binding him to the Underworld for eternity, making him unusable in this war."

"Obviously, you failed?" Cynthia said, but it came out as a question.

Estelle took a sigh. "Yes, on my final attempt, he tricked me by asking for the pomegranate, and when I handed it to him, he threw it, attempting to hit me—I was less than two feet away, need I mind you, yet he still missed, and the pomegranate flew through his shop's window, setting off the alarm and signaling the police."

There was an awkward silence as we tried to soak all this in. "Well," I began. "I don't care if he's paralyzed from head-to-toe, the Furies want him, so we're going to get him."

"You don't understand," Estelle pleaded. "Now that his mother's gone, he can't... he can't even hold a sword without causing some type of damage to himself, his fellow warriors, or his property. He's really very clumsy."

"As I said before, I don't care."

All of a sudden, there was a tiny spark of hope in my mind. I could actually get my mother back. Sure, I hated the Furies, but if following them meant getting my mother back, it would be well worth it.

And I would do anything to get her back.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wake up," I felt pushing against my arm. "Wake up, Greg!" My eyes opened and my vision cleared. Cynthia stood over me. I swatted at her gently, and rolled on my side, in attempt to get more sleep. The cold stone floors of the Labyrinth wasn't exactly a great place to spend the night, but I'd slept in worse. Cynthia sighed, agitated. "I'll put it this way, get up, or I'll _make _you get up."

"Fine," I mumbled, sitting up. That had been the most Ares-like thing Cynthia had ever said. Estelle had already gotten up, and was chewing on an apple.

"Toss something our way?" Cynthia asked, politely. Without a moments hesitation, Estelle reached in her bag and threw two apples through the air, one at a time. We each caught our own, I looked at mine disapprovingly.

"Got anything else?" I asked. "I'm not that big a fan of apples."

The African-American girl narrowed her eyes. "You want the apple," she said, as if trying to change my opinion.

"But—"

"You _want _the apple." She told me again, this time more harshly. "Trust me." I looked at the slick red surface.

"Fine, I'll have the apple," I said, annoyed. "But why? I saw your pack earlier, you practically have a garden in there." It was true, as we settled for the night, she had opened her sack, and there had been fruits of all different types, bananas, grapes, tomatoes, cherries, oranges, tangerines, pomegranates. I wondered how she held all of it in one bag.

"I need those," was her only response. We had been in the Labyrinth for Zeus-only-knows how long, and we hadn't had anything to eat or drink the whole time. I knew we hadn't been down there for long, but in my mind, it felt like years. And the whole step of the way, I thought of the winding tunnels ahead, and all the people who had gone insane traveling through them. _I could go crazy...crazier down here—we all three can, _I thought. I knew it, we knew it, but worst of all, my father knew it, and so did his brothers, and yet they were the reason we were down here.

"Where are we heading today?" Cynthia asked, nonchalantly taking a bite of her apple.

"I was hoping to get to Germany and Achilles today," I responded, sticking my fingernail under the red apple skin and yanking it off.

"Not likely," said Estelle pessimistically.

"Why not?" I asked, red glow coming to my face. This girl whom I had only met a while ago was starting to get on my nerves more than anyone ever had. I couldn't place my finger on why, it just seemed she thought she knew everything.

"We won't get to Germany today, because you have no idea where your leading us." She agreed, my fists had already balled. "And as for Achilles—we left on a Thursday, it's bound to be at least Friday, and Achilles' shop is closed Friday through Sunday." she smiled proudly.

"Alright you little—" Cynthia elbowed me in the stomach, and took over the conversation.

"Why would Achilles be living in Germany? I thought all mythology took place in America now."

"It does," Estelle replied knowingly. "That's the point. Achilles was tired of being hunted down by monsters, so he moved to Germany, where he could pursue his dream uninterrupted."

"His _dream_?" I asked, clueless.

"Computers," she explained, shrugging the thought off. "Well, his advertisement says computers, but since computers are only available to scientists, he gets most of his money by repairing typewriters."

"What _is _a computer anyway?" Cynthia asked. It was my turn to answer a question.

"It's a technology that's used by scientists and historians to store important information and documents that they need to keep track of, or don't want to be seen."

"So you could see why the government would need to have a repairman handy. If they lost some of the information stored on those things..." Estelle added, but didn't finish her thought. She took one of the last remaining bites of her apple.

"Sounds cool, why hasn't it been released to the public yet?" Cynthia asked.

"Won't sell well," I told her. "How many people do _you _know that have to obsessively store data like there's no tomorrow if they don't?"

She didn't say anything, she just nodded.

--1--

I heard the Labyrinth was tricky, that it held life-or-death twists and turns. That there were rooms that could haunt you for the rest of your life. That monsters that had no right to exist outside nightmares waited around every corner, stalking your every move. But, we hadn't seen any of that. It all seemed to be one long, dark and dusty hallway, with no tricks, and no monsters. We hadn't come across a single living organism.

That was, until I heard the noise. It was like a bird was cheeping in the distance, or a cricket rubbed its wings together. A short and simple _squeak, squeak. _

"Did you hear that?" I asked. They were already looking for the origin of the noise even as I asked.

"Where do you think it came from?" Asked Cynthia, I could see her squint from the dim light of the candle she held.

"Why don't you ask Estelle? She seems to know everything." I could hear the change in Estelle's posture, the way she breathed short and furious, in an embarrassed sort of way.

"I think I see something!" Estelle cried, thrusting her arm out to point into the distance. She was right, once again. A small light glowed a small dim of a glow far in the chamber. Like and aura of sort. The small squeaks echoed through the tunnels once more, and we all pressed on.

But something odd happened at the moment we all telepathically agreed to search for the aura, a previously compressed cold wind made its way through the tunnel, chilling us and canceling our only source of lights—our candles. But to the best of my knowledge, wind didn't cycle in tunnels, and if it did, I was seriously behind since I left school.

No comment was made about this wind from any of us. But we all three slowed down. Since the candles had been blown out, it was easier now to see the light ahead. After a few minutes of walking in silence, Estelle called out "Ouch!" I heard what sounded like a hard slam.

"What happened?" Cynthia asked sympathetically. I could see Estelle's shade rubbing her face.

"I think I ran into the wall," she said, pain and sear stupidity in her voice. I couldn't help but to laugh. But then I noticed something disturbing; the light was gone, replaced by a stone wall. We had been fooled.

"The Labyrinth tricked us!" I yelled, almost angrily.

"Looks like it," Estelle agreed, still in shock that _she _of all people had run into a wall. I pounded on the stone, to see if there was some sort of trap door or something. There wasn't, the stone was solid as a rock.

"What now?" I asked, a large sigh following my words. I looked around, I couldn't see anything, I could hardly see my own figure due to the shadow.

"I guess we walk along the walls and hope to find an exit out of this place. Hopefully somewhere in Germany."

They nodded, somehow I knew they did, and we began trailing along the wall, feeling the stone—relying on it as a guide. Though, I knew that wasn't the smartest thing, because the tunnels could pull a prank on us at any moment, and disappear into thin air. But we treaded on, knowing it was our only chance to make it through the maze. We walked in an order, Estelle in the front, me in the middle, and Cynthia at the rear. I thought about how _I _should be in the front, leading, but grateful I wasn't when I heard Estelle yell once more "Youch!" and a clunking sound.

"Hit your head again?" I asked. I heard her sniffle as I waited for a response, her voice was tearful and muffled.

"No," she said, sounding as if she was doing a duck impression. "Just my nose." she sniffed again. "But, hey! I found a door." not waiting for a reply, she opened the door, the hinges protesting as it slid open.

What was behind the door was the last thing I expected to see.

An aquarium. Yes, that's right, a large tank full of fish. That's what lay hidden behind the door in the Labyrinth. I heard Estelle let out gasp. A large sea-tank full of marine fish and fake decorations of coral and seaweed reflected a blue aura, lighting up the room in the same color. A rainbow swarm of different color fish swam through the water in all different directions. Their shadows reflected against the roof. We watched them, awestruck.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," I spun around. A boy, jet black hair, wearing khaki pants and a white button shirt strode easily and calmly to us. Cynthia tensed up. I knew who he was, also. Carter, arrogant son of Zeus. "So, what, Gregory? Our side gets the good cabins and your side of the battle gets the trash. That seems right, seeing as all your father is trash"

I wasn't going to argue with him there, but he walked closer, and I unsheathed my sword. "One more step, and you'll be surrounded by Skeletal Warriors."

He made a sound which might have been a laugh. "Relax, freak. I'm just here to talk with you and your pitiful team. It's not like your warriors, or these two pathetic excuses for half-bloods could harm e, anyway."

"I'd watch the smack-talk, Carter," Cynthia threatened. "You are alone, and accidents happen." he produced a sword.

"Am I?" He asked, gesturing to the tank. "Meet the demi-god who has been assigned to help me retrieve the artifact."

Artifact? What was he talking about. I turned, and the fish in the tank had began to scatter, heading for safety. A large tail had begun to sweep through the tank, swirling the water around inside. It rolled up, and swiftly fell back down, trying to begin to move. The rest of the body of the creature was hidden behind the build of large artificial rock. But the creature soon pushed off the bottom of the glass and was exposed. It was a woman. And a fish. A mermaid.

"Woah..." Estelle mused. "She's... beautiful." the creature swam majestically through the tank, fish darting out of her pathway. Her golden-brown hair flowing wildly with the water. Her tail was longer than the extent of a humans' legs, and sparkled a green-blue, the same vibrant colors of the ocean. A golden belt was wrapped around her waist, along with a sheathed dagger, and she wore a silver tiara in her hair. Another piece of golden jewelery was a necklace with a ruby red gem as the charm. Tattoos of green and blue spiraled around her right arm like a wrap. As she swam, she swung her massive tail in an up-and-down motion, as would a child on a swing set, slowly and steadily. A blue-colored bikini was what she wore to cover herself.

She looked as if she was enjoying her entrance, all the attention that she was getting. She swam close to the glass, and as she passed me, she flashed a smile, exposing her perfect white teeth. She took a turn upwards, and extended her hands to touch the top of the tank and pulled herself up, her stomach pressed against the glass. I stood there, sword in hand, speechless. She looked at me, then back to Carter.

"This is the cousin you told me about, I presume?" she asked. He nodded. She looked back down on me. "You forgot to mention he was so devilishly handsome." she smiled again. "Come closer."

I was as close as I could get. I wasn't tall enough to reach even half the size of the enormous fish habitat. A raw feeling ran through me as she talked, her voice was like a dream. "I... I can't—"

"Carter, be useful and get our cousin a chair." Almost immediately, almost like it was rehearsed, Carter pulled a metal foldable chair up to the glass. I looked at Cynthia and Estelle, they both shook their heads, telling me not to get any closer, but the girl, she was so beautiful... and she wanted me to. I couldn't resist, her voice was just so tempting. So I took the chair, unfolded it, and I stood on it, still not meeting the full size of the tank, so she towered over me by at least a foot.

She looked down at me, a warm expression painted across her face. "Hello, Gregory," she said softly, gently. "I'm Alexandria, daughter of Poseidon." _Alexandria, a name like a poem. _I thought incoherently. What was this girl doing to me?

"I've never known I child of Poseidon to have such... abilities." I stammered. She giggled, as if I was a cute little five-year old who had a crush on his teacher.

"I am unique," she agreed, her brown-gold hair sticking to the sides of her head. "When I was born, I was Poseidon's five hundredth daughter, and to celebrate, he bestowed upon me gifts possessed by no other half-blood."

"I...I—" I got caught in my own words as if they were mouse traps. I glanced over at the other side of the room, there was an exit different from where we had entered through the Labyrinth.

"But as one can quickly learn," Alexandria the Mermaid continued, looking at her nails. "Gifts given by immortals often turn to curses." she said it with a tone of bitterness, but quickly recovered. "What's a Big Three son like you traveling with a bunch of minor-Olympian duds like these two?"

"Hey!" Protested Estelle. "I'm a daughter of Demeter!"

Alexandria rolled her eyes. "Ask me if I care." she looked back at me. "You don't belong with them. You're so much better. You belong with me, don't you think?"

I didn't answer, I just looked at her. Finally I shrugged. "I don't.... don't know where I belong." I stuttered.

"Trust me, you and I, we belong together. And I can prove it. By singing you one simple song, I can show you your past, present, future, and even your inner-most desires and wishes. Even some things you didn't know you wished for."

Cynthia gasped, I could see her from my peripheral vision. "Greg, snap out of it! She's a siren! Greg!" she yanked at my sleeve, but I pushed her away, not taking my eyes off the beautiful girl in front of me.

She looked me deep in the eyes, and opened her mouth, a low musical note that sounded like it was imported from Olympus rang through my eardrum. The mermaid then began on a higher note, almost like opera, except she picked a pitch and stayed there... and she didn't scream at the top of her lungs.

"Greg? Greg!" Cynthia pulled desperately at my clothing, but I was already entranced. The reflection against the glass of the fish tank showed a moving picture. The vision I saw was definitely my inner-most desire. My mom and I, sat around the table at dinnertime. That was it. Just that. Simple, and sweet, no monsters, no swords, no ghosts. We were having a normal family dinner, and that's all I ever wanted. A normal life with my mother. In the moving picture, she had obviously said a joke at my expense, because I wadded up my napkin and threw it across the table at her. I grew misty-eyed as we both started laughing. The siren stopped singing.

"Come with me Greg," she ordered. Part of me wanted to say _No! I can't go with you, you'll kill me! You're fighting against my father! You only want me dead!_ Which was true, but I couldn't resist her. Estelle had joined in on pulling at my clothes, and my sword was gripped firmly in my hand.

"Alright."

The fish-woman grinned. She looked so much older than me, at least in her twenties. And I was only fourteen. But she reached her head down, and brought her lips to mine. I met her halfway, despite the screams from Estelle and Cynthia, and as our lips collided, signals flashed through my body, my stomach did a loop. I was in love. Or, at least I thought, until the mermaid grabbed me, pulling me into a flip over the side of the tank, and into the water, she dove in after me. Automatically, I felt her hands on my again, dragging me to the bottom of the tank, fish scurried out of our way in avoidance of being trampled. I felt my back hit the tiny rocks that rested against the bed of the aquarium, and Alexandria's hand slip over my throat, her other free hand holding on to my arm. I looked out of the glass, and watched as Carter advanced on Estelle, and Cynthia desperately made her way over to the tank that I was being drowned in, and stood on the chair I had stood on only moments ago. My lungs cried for air.

Alexandria hissed as she saw Cynthia coming, she temporarily raised her hand and the water on the surface reacted, separating by magic and splashing out at Cynthia, hitting her with enough force to knock her off the chair and into Estelle, whom I had just realized was unarmed.

_You really are cute,_ I heard Alexandria's voice in my head. _Too bad it had to be this way._

Wait! My sword! I still had my sword! Alexandria had a hand on my free arm, but she had forgotten to suspend my sword arm. I lashed out instinctively, my lungs screaming for air. I heard my sword swipe against the glass, and it chipped a bit, letting water spew from the crack. The mermaid saw what I was doing , and moved her hand from my throat to my sword arm, but I had already brought my knee up, and it collided with her stomach, she let out a gross sound that was amplified by the water, and I kicked again, except this time at the glass, and it burst open, first a small hole, but the pressure of the water pushing against it, trying to get out was unbearable to the glass, and it erupted, sending glass and water flying through the air. Alexandria and I both rolled out onto the floor. Her tail flapped.

"You little mongrel!" She cursed at me as I took deep breaths, feeling light-headed. "I think I rolled on a fish!"

I automatically scrambled to my feet, slipping on a fish that was gasping for a breath. I regained my balance, noticing that everyone else was trying to do the same. Everyone had been swept to their butts when the water rushed from the fish tanks.

I heard Alexandria begin to speak again. "_Élat Notǻ!" _Her tail shrunk and flattened, until she had two human feet covered by a pair of tight blue jeans. She got up, as if she did it every day, drew her knife and charged me. I sidestepped at the last moment, and she cried out as she slipped on the wet floor.

"Greg!" Cynthia called, she and Estelle were already headed for the exit.

"Duck!" Estelle added, and she threw a small purple object through the air, I ducked to the ground, and Carter and Alexandria, who had been advancing on me from behind, jumped back as they saw the object coming.

_Wait, was that a grape?_

Alexandria screamed, in her human form, she looked no older than I, but she also looked angry. The grape exploded in a purple bomb-like magical energy, I ran to meet them at the door. Cynthia pushed the door open, and the daylight stung my eyes, temporarily blinding me. We left with the sound of Alexandria screaming, "Did you just throw a grape at us?"

We got outside and ran through the streets of whatever city in whichever country we were in. We ducked into and alley and hid behind a trash dumpster.

"Let me get this straight," I said to Estelle, panting. "You fight with magical exploding fruits?"

She nodded. "Sometimes," she explained. "Other fruits have different effects." I rolled my eyes. "What?" she asked defensively. "I told you I needed them."

**A/N notice I didn't thank anyone this chapter. That is because I forgot to thank her at the beginning and didn't feel like changing it. I don't feel like it now, either after hours of writing, so she will be thanked next chapter. And I'll tell you this because I don't want a thousand qeustions about it. First, yes, Carter and Alexandria are going to play a huge roll in this story, and the reason Alexandria's siren didn't work for the girl is because she's a... specail siren. That's all I'll say. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N This chapter is going to go to storm-brain, because she was with me when I started Thalia the Hunter, and offered constructive criticism the entire way. I was always expecting a review from storm-brain. **

**So this one's to storm-brain. **

We waited behind the dumpster, I looked around the cold surface of the can, watching the door attentively, waiting for Carter and Alexandria to burst out of the building, heads swiveling around, eyes searching the streets for us.

But they didn't. The only time I couldn't see the doorway was when by passer's legs blocked my view. Cynthia and Estelle huddled in against the wall of the building the dumpster belonged to, waiting for me to give the signal that it was okay to leave, breathing heavy, I stuck more of my body from behind the giant metal trash can. Still nothing; nobody even spared a glance in the door's direction. I didn't think they even noticed that we had emerged in a run from that hellhole. A small girl, not even seven-looking stopped at the front of the dumpster. A woman pulled at her wrist, urging her to come on. But she stood in front of me, small black shoes and long white socks that reached the end of her medium-length checkered dress.

"Mommy!" She said, as if she was excited. "There's a boy on the floor!"

I noticed the English accent when her mother spoke. "Come on, dear, we're going to be late for your appointment."

"But...but," she stammered, disappointed. Her mother tugged at her arm from just out of my sight. I stayed where I was, practically nailed to the ground on all fours with fear. "He's got a sword! A shiny black one!" the girls eyes lit up. But her mother had finally tugged her along.

I looked back at the girls. "I don't think they're coming out." I glanced back at the door that we had left the Labyrinth through.

"We can't go back through there if they don't," said know-it-all Estelle. It was the first time I got a really good glance at her. Her flowing brown eyes, her blazing white teeth. I had to face it, she was perfect. Annoyingly so.

My mind trailed off to a visit I'd had with my mother. _Nobody's perfect, _she'd said. _Not Zeus, not me, or anyone that was ever born. Aphrodite may _think _she's perfect, but that's a whole other story. _

_So what you're trying to say, _I'd added sarcastically. _Is that no one's perfect? _I thought that she'd laugh at that, as she'd repeated the word 'perfect' over and over. I'd hoped that she would find that funny, and she'd laugh like she used to. Like _we _used to. But she didn't. She looked down at me, and continued.

_My point is that everyone has some flaws. In fact it's my pessimistic belief that everyone has more bad qualities than good to them. You can't expect that your father will always decide the best things. He's not human, but Prometheus based humans on the gods, therefore human flaws descend directly from the gods. _

That conversation still bugged me somehow. I figured my father had been alive three- thousand years, if he hadn't figured out life by then, he needed to get a tutor.

I had pretty much figured out how life worked. There were three types of people. Lower status, medium status, and upper status. Lower status people live a crappy life full of misery, deceit, sorrow and death. Medium status folk live in houses, have friends, have a half-hard, half-easy life and then they die. Upper status don't need friends because they only befriend money. They live in houses that you could fit a dwarf-planet into, and employ useless butlers and maids to do all their bidding.

Guess which one I'm in.

Let's see, I didn't have a house at _all _to live in, so that takes out medium status, and I definitely didn't have the money to afford people who wasted their lives in school to learn how to fetch me a cup of water. Sounds like a no-brainier.

That's why I wanted my mom back. I thought maybe if I had the only person who I ever loved me, my life would be bearable. I might _actually _want to live to see another sun rise over the trees in Virginia, or watch the wild horses run majestically through the wide-open green-grass forests in Montana.

But, no. Instead of doing things that appealed to me or made me happy with my life, I was on my hands and knees like an animal, soaking wet from my dip in the fresh-water aquarium, smelling like a mix of fish-flakes and dirty water, hiding behind a dumpster in England—most likely. And the worst part right now; I was kneeling in something green.

No need to make a big deal about it, I simply repositioned my knees.

"We're going to have to go back through there," Cynthia said, still slightly out of breath.

"No!" Cried Estelle. "Are you insane? They'll slaughter us." Cynthia looked at her, sharing her father's glare with the daughter of Demeter.

"Look, you got any better ideas?" She asked, I could tell she was irritated. Estelle looked intimidated, but she was trying not to show it. Without getting an answer, Cynthia stood up. She balled her fists, and headed across the street to the door. She looked back as I stood up, but she held a hand up, telling me to stop. I stood in place, not knowing what to do. I couldn't just let her go alone, but I couldn't exactly risk my own neck. It took me a moment to realize how selfish that was of me.

But I was too late, Cynthia's hand was already turning the knob of the wooden door. She slung it open, raising her fists to her face, as if to block a punch. I was ready to charge into the street, but she stopped, looking baffled, she motioned us across the street.

I slid my sword into my soaking-wet backpack, re-situated the pack on my shoulder, and Estelle and I walked nonchalantly across the street, looking both ways for oncoming automobiles.

We met up with her at the door, she stepped out of the way, exposing a closet. That's right, a tiny closet. Completely empty, the size was the same as that of a janitor's closet. Daylight streamed in, lighting up the far corners. I wiped my finger against the cold stone wall, leaving a trail where my finger swept up the dust. "What happened? The entrance was in here, we all saw it!" I said, bewildered.

Cynthia shrugged. "Guess it was in innie and not an outie."

Estelle sighed, reflecting on our situation. She lit up. "But that's okay, right? We're in England now, so we can take a train to Germany, don't you think?" Cynthia and I exchanged looks, clearly unsure about that suggestion. "Okay!" Estelle said, not caring about our input. "I'll get directions." she trotted off to the pedestrians, approaching a man in a slick black suit and a briefcase.

I studied her as she interacted with the man, he smiled as she talked, and she laughed. "Have you ever seen someone as perfect as her?" I asked, disapprovingly to Cynthia, who watched her as well. Estelle gestured to us, and the man spared a quick glance.

"I've never seen someone who _thinks _she's as perfect as she does." Cynthia said, disgust in her voice.

"I know," I agreed. "She fights with magic fruits. How useful can she be?"

"I don't know," Cynthia shook her head, her wavy red hair bouncing from shoulder to shoulder. Estelle flipped her own hair over her shoulder flirtatiously while talking to the middle-aged Englishmen, but she looked at me from the corner of her eyes. My stomach did a flip. "Those stupid fruits scared Carter and the mer-jerk pretty badly. Oh, and speaking of her—" she hit me on the shoulder. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, Gregory. I'll kill you myself before I let some half-fish hussy drag you to the bottom of the ocean."

I kept my focus on Estelle, watching her intently, purposely ignoring Cynthia's comment. "She has a flow somewhere, and I'm going to figure it out." Estelle came running back, eyes twinkling in delight. "He says the train station is a block or so away. He also said I had beautiful eyes, but that's not the point." she smiled, and paused. "I'm just glad he wasn't a racist like every mortal in America."

It was true. In America, there was large discrimination against blacks. They couldn't eat in some restaurants, or use some of the bathrooms. But in England, it was much... friendlier that America. I'm not saying there weren't problems, but...

I could see why Estelle stayed at camp. At camp, everything was equal. Well, Chiron treated everyone equal, but there were still those kids that come in as new campers, and discriminate. Chiron turned them around.

"We should start walking, then." I said, and without a moment of protest, we made off down the street.


	6. Chapter 6

The train station was a large one, filled with many Europeans walking around in a hustle, tugging their children along, smoking cigars, wearing formal clothing, smoking cigars, buying their train tickets, smoking cigars, saying goodbye to loved ones, did I mention they were smoking cigars? Because that was the most annoying part about the British, they smoked a _lot _of cigars. Way more than any American I ever knew. Everywhere I looked, a small haze of smoke flowed from a group of people. I almost gagged at the overwhelming scent of the whole place.

Estelle and Cynthia noticed as well, their faces had sour looks and they only took breaths when absolutely necessary.

The station was very dimly lit; most of the light shown in through the windows, but some came artificially. And around any light bulb in the building, a small cloud of smoke radiated the light, almost like an aura.

Black leather furniture decorated the main lobby, and many waiting passengers lounged across the sofas and chairs, most focusing on a newspaper or book, waiting for their train. A woman behind the main desk focused most of her attention on a typewriter, but occasionally stopping to answer a fax or tend to a passenger. She was young, wearing a blue dress with floral print, the color blended in perfectly against the contrast of her eyes, and her long blond hair rested perfectly on her shoulders. I glanced at the girls.

"I don't think a train is such a good idea," I admitted, looking from Estelle to Cynthia. And of course, the 'perfect one' had a sarcastic comment to add.

"Do you expect us to walk all the way to Germany?" Estelle asked.

"No," I snapped. "But a train has no exits, if we're ambushed, we'll have limited fighting space. Plus, there are a lot of ways to die on a train."

"From what I gathered, you're quite the fan of death." She retorted, as if it were some kind of joke. A picture of Megaera flickered into my mind. The way she had told me about the punishment, the lust and hunger in her eyes. My blood boiled. There was no doubt in my mind my father had been behind the punishment. He didn't care about me. Sometimes I thought he invented things to make my life more miserable. Most likely he did.

"Shut up, Estelle," Cynthia demanded. She turned to me. "If you really don't want to take a train, we can find another way to get to Germany." She looked back at Estelle "No matter how long it takes."

I looked back at the main desk, where the woman was now printing tickets for a man holding two brown suitcases. "No, we'll manage." I said finally.

When we approached the beautifully polished wooden desk, the woman looked up at us for a moment, then back at her typewriter. She typed a few more words, and turned her attention back on us. "May I help you?"

"How much would tickets to Germany cost us?" Estelle asked, jumping straight to the point.

"Well, lets see if there's any seats left..." she directed her attention to a file on her desk. "We do have a few more seats available at a ridiculously low price. Not including meals." she said, her accent flowing.

"How much?" I asked.

"Four pounds each."

Estelle grimaced. "Sounds icky. Do you have any seats in first class?" the woman looked her over, judging whether or not she thought we would be able to pay. She reluctantly let her eyes drift off to her file again.

"Five," she told us, then added. "But are you sure you can pay that?"

"But of course," Estelle answered, looking pleased. But Cynthia and I knew we barely pay the four pounds... and we only had American money. Estelle pulled a single American dollar from her sack. She snapped. But it was no ordinary snap. The sound ricocheted in my mind, echoing over and over. She handed the worker the bill. She looked at the paper-money, and her eyes lit up with surprise. Estelle had manipulated the mist. Why hadn't I thought of that. Oh, right, because I'm not _perfect _like her.

"Don't you want to know how much tickets cost?" The woman asked. She pushed a tuft of hair from her eyes.

"Not really," Estelle said, somewhat snidely. "Just get me three tickets and you can keep the change." As if Estelle were her queen, the English employee immediately printed four tickets and handed them to us. "Thanks," Estelle said, and we walked away.

"The train leaves in about fifteen minutes." The woman called after is. "Although it may be delayed... it's snowing in Germany."

"Gotcha," Estelle said back, holding thumbs-up sign over her head. When we sat down and I was sure I was out of earshot of anyone else, I glared at Estelle.

"That was stupid. What if we get caught? We could be thrown in jail."

Her smile faded, and she looked at me, as if trying to call me a bunch of dirty words with her facial expression. "We're not _going _to get caught, Greg. Only when they count the money will they notice that bill, and by that time, I hope we'll be halfway to Germany."

"But what happens when the station contacts the train and tells them that there are three people on the train that paid with a one dollar bill in American money? They'll throw us off at the nearest stop and have us arrested, that's what." Cynthia scolded. She looked consciously back at the woman at the desk, who was, once again, leaning over her typewriter.

"It's not like they have proof it was us who paid with the American money. They won't throw anyone off if they're not sure who it was." Estelle argued.

"Let's see... pretend you're the person who works here," I said, Estelle began to tie her hair up. "You sold a bunch of tickets to all Europeans, and then there were three American teenagers who paid with a large amount of money and told you to keep the change. Who would _you _say paid with the whack bill?"

"Look," Estelle began apprehensively. "Let's just let it go, and see what happens. I'm sure everything will be fine."

--1--

If you're anything like me, you don't feel comfortable in small enclosed spaces. It can't be called claustrophobia, because it's more of a paranoia.

Now, imagine me, on a train. I was shaking harder than any chihuahua I'd ever seen. It got really bad as the train started leaving the station, and I knew we wouldn't be able to get off if we got into any sort of trouble.

The good thing, though; we had our own private quarters. Just a little room that had a bench stretched across the three walls, and a sliding-glass door that led into the outside hallway. There was a small window that exposed the outside world as our train zipped past it. The leather seat felt cold against my butt, but I wasn't going to complain. I would have rather been inside than out. We had thrown our backpacks onto the tan carpet, making it difficult to walk around.

The employees to the train past the hall quite often, and when they did, Cynthia would lean her head against the wall, and take a deep breath.

"Every time they pass by, I feel like they're coming to get us." she admitted.

"Me too," I told her. "I even said a prayer to Hestia."

"Hestia?" Cynthia asked. "Why Hestia?"

"Well, not always Hestia," I corrected. "Sometimes Artemis. They've just always seemed to be the most worthy of prayer."

"Pray to either of them to keep us from getting caught." Cynthia said, her head collapsing into her hands with frustration.

"Will you relax?" Estelle asked. "We're not going to get caught."

"I will _not _relax," Cynthia growled. "And what makes you think we won't get caught? Can you see the future now, too?"

"Huh?" Estelle asked, befuddled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means," _Cynthia added meanly. "That ever since you joined up with us, you've acted like a snob. You think you're perfect, but we think you're a bitch. You act like you're better than both of us, and we're sick of it."

I'd known Cynthia a while, and I'd never seen her act so much like her father. She was beginning to change... change into something I wouldn't like. Another attempt by Hades to keep me isolated. _Why doesn't he just kill her?_

"You think I'm perfect?" Estelle asked, then she turned in my direction to ask her second question. "We?" there was a sparkle of held back tears in her eyes.

I glanced at the window above her head, avoiding eye-contact. "We."

She looked at both of us briefly. Then she suddenly became interested in the ceiling. "I... I didn't realize you two felt this way." she stood up from her seat, wobbling a bit from the movement of the train. "I'll just... just get out of your way. Good luck finding Achilles in Germany." I could hear her voice break slightly.

There was something I had forgotten about the children of Demeter and Persephone. They weren't good with pain, physical or emotional. We had hardly known Estelle for a week, yet she still cried when she heard what we truly though of her. Just like her mother. Even after thousands of years of Persephone leaving to the Underworld annually, Demeter still felt the pain of the loss, even though she knew it was only for a little while. I seemed to notice things about people in this way. I noticed the certain personalities and attributes that heroes received from their immortal parent, not just their fighting abilities, but something deeper than that.

She gathered her pack, and stumbled out the door. "Estelle?" I cried after her, but she ignored me, and turned down the hallway in a run. She pushed past a few passengers, practically knocking them to the floor.

I stood up to go after her, but Cynthia raised her hand up in protest. "She just needs time to settle down. She'll be back in a while."

I hoped so, though I didn't say it. I didn't like her, but that didn't mean I wanted her hurt. That was something about the children of Hades I didn't understand. They have a compassion to feel the pain of another human being, even though their father has to be the foulest, cruelest man alive. I've always thought that compassion came with an understanding of death, knowing that life truly is short, and that you need to live it to the fullest. Yes, I talk about the children of Hades like I'm not one. There's a reason for that, I think you should know that reason by now.

I leaned my head back, bracing it against the head of the chair and the wall. I took one last glance out the window, I could see light snow beginning to fall from the sky. I closed my eyes with that mental picture running through my mind.

Which made the dream I had even more bizarre.

_I was on top of a beautiful green-grassed hill, the sun shown bright midday, a woman in a straw hat, surrounded by two children not even half her height. They all three wore dresses, showing they were all girls. They were all African-American. _

_It was Elana, I just knew it. _

_I followed them uphill, I wasn't getting hot or tired as I would in real life, but the sun still blinded me. _

_We stopped at the top of the hill, which overlooked a long lake, with crystal-clear waters and low-lapping waves. _

"_Are you sure we should be out here, Momma?" the oldest daughter asked Elana, who smiled back at her. "What if the Master catches us?" _

"_That old mule ain't gonna' get us." she answered simply. _

"_But we really should be working," the younger one said, almost guilty. Both the kids wore ragged blue or red dresses with matching sun-faded bonnets. The youngest one looked to be about six, with her two front teeth missing. The elder girl looked about nine, and was about a foot taller than the other. _

"_Well, ain't that a cryin' shame?" Elana asked, placing her hands delicately on her hips. "I finally sneak my girls away for some fun, and all they can think about is work!" I was quite impressed, Elana's vocabulary had improved since she'd been dead. She was wearing a long dark purple dress with a dirt-stained apron and a torn straw hat. _

"_Why we gotta' work all day anyways?" The youngest one asked, placing her hands on her hips, careful to do it just as her mother had. Elana got down on her knees, meeting the height of her daughter. She gripped both her shoulders. _

"_Darlin' me and your father tried to explain it to you a couple of times before, I don't think we can until you're a little older. But these people—" she braced herself to finish the sentence,"white people. They think we're... different from them 'cause our skin is black. They don't like us, baby." _

"_I hate white people." Stated the older girl, crossing her arms over her chest. Elana stood up and was looking down at her in a heartbeat. _

"_I don't want to hear you say that _ever _again." Elana told her, calmly but sternly. _

"_It's true." She replied defiantly. _

"_It may be, Stephani" Elana said. "But the hatred against us started when the first white man said 'I hate blacks' we can feel the same hatred in us, but it ain't gonna' get us nowhere." _

"_So they can hate us, and hurt us and sell us like pets, but we can't hate them back?" The one called Stephani asked. "That don't seem too fair." _

"_It ain't fair," Elana explained. "But we just gotta' keep prayin' and hope things'll get better." _

"_I want things to get better real soon, Momma, real soon." The littlest one said. _

_Elana picked her up. "Me too, baby, me too." _

"_Well ain't that touching?" I turned around. A white man was behind me, he held a whip in one hand, and a strap of leather connected to a bloodhound's collar in the other. Stephani shuffled to hide behind her mother. _

"_Malcolm," Elana began frantically. "It was my fault, don't punish my girls, if you're going to hit someone, hit me." _

"_Oh, don't worry, Elana, you'll get your turn." Malcolm said. He dropped the leash and his dog scurried to the lake down the hill. He cracked his whip, and a sharp, snapping noise disturbed the perfect afternoon atmosphere. I heard a small whimper come from Stephani. _

_I wanted to get in front of them draw my sword, and tear apart this guy limb from limb. But he passed straight through me, as Elana and her girls started backing up. _

"_Don't run, Elana, it'll only make things worse." The owner warned. Elana dropped her youngest daughter to the grass, who joined her sister behind their mother. Malcolm lashed out at Elana, and the whip immediately pierced her skin, she cried in pain and staggered backwards, unintentionally leaving the girls exposed. Malcolm slung his whip again, this time, it struck the youngest girl, sending her to the ground. Elana and Stephani watched in horror as he moved closer to the little girl, intending to strike again. Ignoring the blood gushing from a cut dangerously close to her eye, Elana rushed to her daughter, reaching out and grabbing the whip from her owner. _

_Before Elana even had a chance to attack him, his fist flew towards her face, and I heard the crack of her jaw as she dropped the whip. Malcolm retrieved it, and held it over his head, he was hitting to kill now. _

_He began to sling it, to end Elana's life, when he suddenly cried out in pain himself. He fell to the grass. _

"_Eleanor!" Cried Elana, almost in a lecture. But Malcolm grabbed the girl's leg, and Eleanor fell to the grass beside him. "No!" she screamed in horror as she watched the white man produce a knife from his belt. She made a move to ambush him, but was too late. He stabbed her in the chest. Her bulged out, and she screamed in pain. _

_Elana fell to her knees in the grass, screaming in horror, her tears mixing with the blood on her face. Malcolm stood as Elana grabbed her daughter into her arms. She stared into his eyes, which were full of hate. _

"_Be back within ten minutes, or I'm coming after the other three with a shotgun. I ain't playin' nanny to your goddamn brats." Malcolm threatened, and turned to walk away. _

_Elana and Stephani hovered over Eleanor, both sobbing unconditionally. I was aware of the tragedy I had just witnessed, the death, and somehow knew it wouldn't be my last. I knew this had really happened, which made it even worse. I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks, though they seemed to disappear as they reached the bones of my chin. _

"_Can we hate white people now, Momma?" Stephani asked between sobs. Elana held her lifeless daughter against her chest, her own blood mixing with the girl's. Tears fell off her face and landed on Eleanore's dress. Stephani rested her head against her sister's chest, and they all sat on the grass, huddled, crying and lonely. The girls arm with a thin line of blood draped over Elana's knee. _

"_My baby, my sweet little angel." Elana sobbed hysterically as she stroked the girl's hair, leaving trails of blood on her forehead. _

"_Momma?" I heard it very faintly, but the girl was speaking. She coughed up blood. It was a miracle that she wasn't dead, but that just meant she'd have more pain, taking her time to die. "Tell daddy I love him, and Sam and Teddy. Tell them all." _

"_I will baby, don't you worry." _

_Eleanore's voice was raspy, but she sang, it was the same song Elana had sung in the Labyrinth. "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming—" she coughed again. _

"_Coming for to carry me home, swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home." Elana finished for her, wiping tears from her own eyes._

"_I'm goin' home, Momma. Home where I ain't gonna' work all day. Where the clouds are pure white and the streets are paved in gold." Eleanore said, and a smile crossed her face. _

"_I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?" Elana began singing again, she looked to Eleanore for a response. She said nothing. "What did you see?" Still no response. But after a few short seconds, the girl repeated: _

"_I'm goin' home Momma, I'm goin' home." _

_I knew what Elana was feeling. I had experienced it myself. She felt sick, horrified, and heartbroken. It was an experience she would never forget. It would be her most vivid memory. She'd remember every last detail up until the last grueling moment. But out of everything, she felt alone. Alone, all though she had everyone she needed to keep her sane, she still felt, and always will feel, alone. _

--2--

I woke to the sounds of commotion in the hallway. It took me a few minutes to remember where I was, and what all had happened within my last few minutes of being awake.

I looked out the window. The daytime sky had faded to black, and there wasn't much to be seen, except the pure white blanket of snow that covered the ground. My eyes drifted to Cynthia, who was asleep, lying flat on her bench. Estelle was still gone. How long had it been since she left? Where did she go? I got up, stepping carefully over the packs on the floor, and started to shake Cynthia. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands.

"Huh? Greg?" She asked incoherently.

"Come on," I ordered. "Estelle never came back. We need to go find her." Visions from my dream were swirling through my head. The blood, the tears, the happiness beforehand.

"Have you been crying?" Cynthia asked, looking me over skeptically. I wiped at my eyes, dry tears that had shed during my dream left their mark. The collar of my shirt was soaked.

"No," I said defensively. "Come on."

Cynthia slung her feet over the leather and to the floor reluctantly. "Do we really have to find her? We're better off without her."

"Look, no we're not, okay?" I snarled. "The Furies assigned her to my group, I have to follow what the Furies say, if I don't, they'll punish me."

"Punish you?" Cynthia asked, grabbing her backpack. "Punish you how? And since when do you listen to the Furies? You hate anything to do with the Underworld and your father. We'd be better off to just go our separate ways with Estelle. We would work so much better just the two of us. You know, partners in crime." My mind instantly trailed off to Bonnie and Clyde back at the diner. They'd been 'partners in crime', and how had that turned out for them? Not too well. 

"Like it or not, Estelle is a valuable asset. Without her, we wouldn't have known where Achilles was, and we probably wouldn't be on this train right now." I told her. She had caught me in a bad mood.

"Don't snap at me, Gregory," she ordered. "And why are you defending her? _You _were the one who agreed with me a few hours ago in England that she was snobby and arrogant."

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were going to snap at her like a hungry pack of wolves." I said angrily. "She's a person, just like you and me. With feelings, emotions and insecurities. I know children of Ares are meant to look past all that—"

"Whoa, hold up," she said defensively. "What do you mean 'meant to look past that'?"

"I _mean," _I said, blood boiling. I could still feel the dry tears on my cheeks and in the corners of my eyes. "Ares's kids are supposed to be killing machines—most aren't, but all still have their genes operated in a fashion to ignore the guilt that comes with causing other creatures' pain."

She put her hands on her hips. "What exactly are you saying to me?"

"Never mind." I just gave up, swinging my backpack over my shoulder and heading for the hallway. The visions from my dreams were still running through my mind. The blood, the death, the sorrow of that tragic moment as the little girl took her last breath. She had sacrificed herself for her mother, something I wished I could've done.

Cynthia grabbed my arm. "Stop. Finish what you started." I could see the blind rage in her eyes, telling me she was not playing around. For the first time, Cynthia looked like she _wanted _to kill someone. Her expression was firm and strong, like stone.

"I intend to." I told her, yanking free from her and walking through the door and into the hallway. What I had just said had nothing to do with Cynthia. I found a trains station employee pushing a trolley of snacks through the narrow path way. "Excuse me, where are we?"

"We're in Poland, can't tell you where exactly, seeing as I don't know, but from what I understand, we should be arriving in Germany on schedule." she replied.

Cynthia filed in behind me as the worker pushed her cart down the hall. "I'm not finished with you, Greg."

"I don't want to talk about it." I said, starting to make my way into the dining hall, the only place I figured we had a chance of finding Estelle.

"Well I do," she said in a hushed tone as a group of Europeans passed us. "You practically called me heartless, and told me I wasn't a good person because I blew up in _one _person's face."

"I said I don't want to talk about it." I growled. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she had changed into a long blue skirt and a long sleeved button shirt. I knew her knife was in her pack, and my sword in mine.

"I don't give a damn whether you want to talk about or not!" She cried, getting the attention of other people in the hall. She lowered her voice again. "You really talked down to me, I'm not a bad person. Who was the one that slept with you in the small shack on stormy or cold nights so you wouldn't be alone? Who walked with you to the cemetery every night for protection when you wanted to contact your mother? And who left their life behind at camp when you cut yourself?"

I turned around, by this time, we were just outside the dining car. "But I didn't ask you to do all that!" I yelled. "You did that. No one made the decision for you!"

"I did it because I care about you." Her voice broke a little. "Don't you care about me?"

"No." I lied, my voice a perfect even tone. The truth was, I did like her, but I didn't like that stakes she was putting herself at because of me. She was the closest thing I had ever had to a friend since my mom died, and it killed me inside to hurt her the way I did, but in the long run, she would benefit from it. She wouldn't die.

I didn't dare meet her eyes. "Fine," she said. "After I make sure Estelle's alright, and the train stops in Germany, I'll leave you alone, go my own way, just like Estelle. Maybe I'll see you in Erebus Stronghold, maybe even on the battlefield, but if I don't, have a nice life." She said this with deep pain painted in her voice.

"Since when do you care if Estelle is alright?" I asked, trying to keep the illusion. What I really wanted to say is _Please! I'm sorry! Don't go! I need you! I'm... I'm just afraid to get to close to you!_

"Since I recently discovered what it feels like to be hurt." She grumbled and pushed in front of me and into the dining car.

It felt like my heart had been ripped out again. I guessed everyday of my life would be like this. It always seemed to go that way for me. First, I watch a girl die, then, I lose my best friend.

**A/N Alright, this chapter was going to be longer, but I'm dividing it up into two, since the first half was longer than I expected. **

**Next chapter, you will meet some mythological figures, and there will be a fight! **

**And on my last chapter, you all questioned why I used 'status' instead of 'class'. As I explained to the reviewers that asked, 'status' would refer not only to the amount of money you have, but it would also refer to how you're treated in society. Whereas, if I just said 'class', you would instantly think of money. Does that make sense? **

**Oh, and please, don't waste you time telling me about all the grammatical errors that Elana and her daughters made. I did that on purpose, they're slaves, of course they're not going to talk well. **


	7. Chapter 7

I looked around the Dining Car, searching for Estelle. I spotted her sitting at the bar, a glass full of soda-pop in her hand. She was faced away from us, talking. It wasn't until she moved her head, taking a sip of her pop that I noticed who it was.

"Alexandria..." Cynthia next to me growled. I grabbed her arm, trying to get her to turn and leave, she snatched her arm away, letting me know she was still mad at me. But we both headed for the exit. I scrambled to reach for the knob, but the door opened abruptly, causing us both to stop in our tracks. A figure a few inches taller than me blocked the doorway, his thick head of black hair and electric-blue eyes seemed to mock us. He walked closer until we had to step back.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked. "Couldn't you stay for a pop?"

It was Carter.

"Move," I demanded, sounding much more confident than I really was. "Now."

Carter's dark red turtle-neck shirt was form-fitting, showing off all the muscles in his stomach, and the ones that weren't visible in his arms. He wore a pair of black pants that seemed to fade against the dark contrast of the Dining Car. "Now, Greg, don't be feisty. We are, after all, family."

"Family doesn't fight against each other." Cynthia told him. He eyed her, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I was told you were a daughter of Ares." he said.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, offended. "I am."

He put his arm on her shoulder. "Than act like it." She pushed his arm of her shoulder, and I could practically read her thoughts. _I'm going to smack him, I'm going to smack him all the way to Germany, then I'm going to swift kick him in the ass so he lands back in the States, then I'm going to buy a ticket on a passenger plane back to the USA just so I can smack him again. _He looked at her again, the back to me. "Come, Alexandria is waiting."

"Why would I go with you? What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked, nonchalantly looking around the car for exits.

"I wouldn't attempt escape. We've got guards at all the doors," he paused. "Then again, you die today, anyway."

I was too deep in thought to process the last part of his sentence. They had us cornered in the Dining Car. We were doomed. He led us over to the bar, where I gave Estelle a deep glare, letting her know I was going to throw her out of the train later.

Alexandria looked me over. "Hey, handsome." she said. She didn't quite have the same effect on me in human form, as she looked to be about twelve, but in mermaid form, she looked to be at least nineteen.

"Shut up you bottom-feeding hussy." Cynthia growled at her, then looked at Estelle. "I should have known you'd betray us. I could call you a few things, you know."

"Yikes, someone needs more fiber in her diet," Alexandria said with a laugh. "You were all 'teary-eyed' last time I saw you. What happened, did _Miss Sensitivity 1939 _find out Gregory doesn't love her back?"

I blushed. Cynthia spoke up again. "At least I'm not in love with my first-cousin!" she stood up.

Alexandria stood up as well. "You're right, darling, you're in love with your second-cousin." Estelle drank more of her pop, like there was nothing going on around her.

Carter rose from his seat around the bar. "Retract those claws, kitties. We're here on business. This has nothing to do with Estelle, and who loves Greg the most, we save that for second grade."

I thought it was a funny joke, though I'd never admit it. But they looked at each other, and sat back in their seat. The bartender who'd obviously seen the incident walked over to us.

"May I help you children?" she said, I hardly noticed the British accent. But I _did _notice Carter checking her out.

"We're fine." I said quickly, and she looked us over, unsure, and then went to polish the glasses with her rag, but she kept an eye on us. I turned back to Carter. "Okay, jackass, what the hell do you want from us?"

"I'll ignore your profanity," he said, then went on. "Zeus and Poseidon don't like you, Greg. You see, they think you and these girls are the ones that Hades will send after the Relic."

_Relic? Why does he keep mentioning a Relic? _"What are you talking about."

"You mean you don't _know?_" Alexandria snorted. "My, my. I've seen stop signs slower than you."

"You're talking about the Seal of Destiny, right?" Cynthia asked.

Carter nodded. "Yes. My father and uncle seem threatened by the presence of the three of you. So they assigned us to kill you. I don't see the threat, though. A suicidal son of Hades, a daughter of Ares who may as well belong to Aphrodite, and a daughter of Demeter who uses the same fighting technique as a gorilla." He quickly added a sarcastic "So very scary, why, I think I've wet my pants."

"Still doing that, Carter?" Estelle finally spoke up. "Why, I remember when you first arrived at camp, and Chiron stepped out of his wheelchair, you took one look at him and peed yourself. Sad thing, though, you were thirteen."

Carter blushed. "I'd make you regret that comment, however, you're dying in less than an hour at my hand, anyway."

When he said that, was the same time I noticed the dagger sheathed and hidden at Cynthia's side, and Estelle's backpack that she carried her 'special fruits' in was at her side. I knew in my pack my short-sword was waiting for my use.

I looked again for exits. This time, not for doors, but for air vents, or...anything. That's when I saw it. A hatch at the top of the car, that most likely led up to the roof of the train. It was a long shot, but it was our only choice. _Keep him talking. He loves to brag. _

"Oh, really, we're going to die? And how do you plan to do that?"

"We've placed salt on the upcoming railroad tracks." He answered.

I paused for a moment, waiting for him to begin laughing, but he didn't. He was serious. "What are you going to do next, serve it with a lightly-buttered roll?"

He sighed. "You idiot. Salt causes trains to run of track when placed on the railroad. It would be almost like slipping on ice for a human. Only, much more... deadly."

"Why don't you just kill us?" Estelle asked. Looking at her, I remembered what had just occurred in our car a few hours ago. How hurt she'd been, and how she was willingly going to let us alone. But that's the last thing I needed to be. Alone. I wondered what she had been talking to Alexandria about, since she didn't seem to be attempting to get away from her.

"That would take all the fun out of it." He said, a sly, evil smile crossing his face. "Besides, we wouldn't want it to look like it was aimed at certain people. That would cause unnecessary investigations."

"Do you know how many other people you'd be killing?" Cynthia asked, she didn't even seem concerned for herself, but for the wellbeing of everyone else.

"A bunch of worthless, pathetic mortals." Alexandria answered. "Too many to count."

"You're half worthless-pathetic-mortal!" Cynthia protested.

"Actually, I'm a third mortal, a third sea mammal, and a third god." She responded.

"You know what, I'm glad Greg didn't turn out anything like you two," Cynthia said. "You two have got to be the most arrogant people alive. So spoiled by being the children of one of the Big Three that you don't even consider your mortal heritage, and you kill them if they get in your way. You have lost your compassion to feel the pain of another creature. You've lost your right to love, and you've forgotten what it's like to feel vulnerable. That's what's kept demigods and mortals close. Not the blood that we share, or the country we live in, but it's the emotions and feelings we share that allow us to feel sorrow, joy, or pain for one another."

"If we wanted to be preached at, we'd go to church." Alexandria said, looking at her nails. "You're just jealous, anyway, just because you're father is a minor Olympian. A bed-hopping shell of a man that only likes to watch people die." She rose. "He's worthless, and only causes trouble. And you're the poor sap that has to call him 'daddy'. Sucks for you. Ah, what does it matter? You're both a waste of oxygen either way."

Without saying anything, Cynthia grabbed Estelle's pop from her hand, looked at the glass to see how full it was, shrugged, and poured the glass over Alexandria's head. Alexandria instantly fell to the floor with a shriek, I jumped to avoid her sprouting tail. I pushed myself up onto the bar, ignoring the screams and gasps of the mortal passengers. I prayed to Hestia that it wasn't a mermaid they were seeing through the mist.

"Estelle! Cynthia! Hurry!" I motioned to them, and Alexandria was already pushing herself off the floor, her blue-green tail morphing back into legs. Obediently, Cynthia and Estelle pushed their way on top of the bar, and I started in a run across the smooth surface, knocking beer and Hades-knows-what-else into people's laps, and on the floor, overwhelming the place with screaming, curses, and breaking glass.

The exits flung open at once, and I saw Carter and Alexandria's guards. Extremely large, human-like robots, that moved quickly across the floor. Automaton's. Created by the forge-god Hephaestus.

"Estelle, throw something!" I said, fumbling with the latch that would open our only ticket to freedom. She unzipped her backpack at warp speed, but they were getting closer. Alexandria had changed back into a human, and her and Carter were now on top of the bar. Cynthia picked up a wine glass and threw it, smacking Alexandria in the face and shattering at her feet. "Estelle, now!" But as I said it, she whipped out what looked to be an orange. She immediately threw it, and it landed in front of two of the six automatons, splattering it's liquids all over them.

Instantly, their fake skin started to melt and tear, exposing the metal under it, but as quickly as the skin melted, the metal started to dissolve in a sickening sizzling sound, like that of grease cooking a tortilla.

_Acid oranges. Ouch. _

Finally, the latch popped open and the outside world was exposed, all I could see was the gray sky and the snow falling from it. I wasted no time, I hoisted myself out of the opening, and onto the roof, instinctively reaching into my backpack to draw my sword, when I saw something that practically sent me into cardiac arrest. Six women, two archers, four weapon wielders stood on the roof.

The one in the front, a extravagantly beautiful woman, holding a sword, and a silver and red buckler spoke to me. "Get behind us, young warrior."

The snow lightly fell, and the train still trucked down it's railroad, causing me to sway as I tried to move across the snow-covered roof. I dropped to my hands in knees, in order to keep from falling off. I was hardly dressed to be crawling through snow. When I was close enough, the woman grabbed my arm, and lifted me up. I could barely hear her shout over the wind which had seemed to just pick up.

"I bless you and your allies with the Blessing of Grace." Her words were calm and relaxed, and all of a sudden, It was like the train had stopped, and the wind was no longer pushing against me. It was as if I were standing on the ground, except much, much easier, almost like gravity had no effect on me—and of course it did, but I felt... free, like an eagle soaring over a mountaintop. Like there was nothing that could bring me down.

Cynthia scattered onto the top of the vehicle, followed by Estelle. They had no trouble standing up, I guess the Blessing had taken affect on them as well. They scrambled behind the women with no instruction, and Carter appeared through the hatch, and Alexandria right behind him. They stopped immediately upon sighting the people who had saved us, shock on their faces. Carter wiped the expression from his face, trying to show no weaknesses.

I noticed one thing, though. The woman had said she bestowed the Blessing upon me and my allies. Carter and Alexandria definitely weren't allies, yet they had no trouble standing on top of the train.

"It doesn't matter now." Carter began, and laughed. "None of it matters." The six women broke apart, four backing up, leaving two standing side-by-side in the front. They guided us backwards with them. Carter eyed the two women. "Hippolyte, Penthesilea, you have led your warriors to their doom."

"And die honorably they will." One of the women in the front said, she stood next to the one who had blessed us. She wore a helm that covered most of her head, but her blond hair flowed out in two neat braids. She was completely covered in battle-armor, and carried a shield and spear in her hands.

"There are two ways you all will die today," Carter said, producing a sword. "Either by the hands of us and our minions personally, or you will die when the train wreck takes place."

They both seemed unphased. "Your minions?" The one who blessed us asked. As if on cue, automatons pushed the hatches of the cars behind Carter and Alexandria, and began pushing themselves up on the train-top.

Carter only smirked, but Alexandria spoke up. "Artemis will be pleased to know you're enemies to the Hunt again. She says it's good practice to fight against your girls, Penthesilea."

The one called Penthesilea—the one who blessed us—spoke up."Artemis is a fool, she and Lieutenant Nightshade are nothing but arrogant, sorry excuses for immortal life. I've almost killed them on several occasions."

The one who seemed to be named Hippolyte chimed in. "And in the end, it will be us to have the last laugh." Automatons from everywhere behind our enemies joined them, looking dangerously threatening. There were many more then I expected, at least thirty, maybe fifty. And there were nine of us...

"No, the last laugh will belong to us," Carter smirked. "At the next railroad crossing, salt has been placed on the tracks. I expect everyone on this train to be dead within five minutes."

"There's one hole in your plot," mocked Penthesilea. "You're on this train."

"Don't underestimate us." Alexandria replied. She had a dagger tightly gripped in her palm. I could feel the nervous sweat rubbing against my sword from my hands.

"What makes you think you're going to live to see us die, mermaid?" Hippolyte asked snidely. Then added, "Amazons, attack plan Delta."

Instantly, the two archers shot a small volley of two arrows, and the fight had begun.

The two sides rushed at each other, coming head on. Estelle threw one of her little grape explosion do-hickies, and it exploded in the middle of the large group of automatons, and sent parts flying through the air. Alexandria went after Cynthia, and Penthesilea and Hippolyte went after the large group of robotic monstrosities. Leaving me, against Carter as the other Amazons went to help their leaders, and Estelle was acting as an archer with her banana-boomerang.

Carter lashed out at me with his sword, and I barely had time to react, but at the last second I raised my short-sword, and blocked his blow. My brain pulsed as I attempted to summon skeletal reinforcements from the Underworld. No luck.

I lunged at Carter, and he sidestepped, practically slipping on the snow. Automaton parts whizzed through the air behind us. Carter swung at me again, but I parried the blow, and automatically returned it. After a few seconds, with glee, I realized I had pierced his sword arm. He yelped in fright when he realized that blood was oozing from the wound, but he quickly recovered from the shock and switched arms. But I knew he wouldn't be as good using his off-hand. He switched to hand-sword combat, using a mixture of martial arts and swordplay as defense.

He kicked at me and lunged his sword at the same time, I leaped back to avoid the blow, but I felt the tip of his sword scratch against my thigh. He grinned with satisfaction when he saw the blood staining my pants. His expression quickly changed as he ducked, and Estelle's banana-boomerang jolted past my head and flew through the air, right where his head would've been. He stood back up, a smug grin on his face again. Apparently, though, he had forgotten about the drawback of a boomerang, because the device came back at a greater speed than it had come the first time, and hit him on his head. I heard the contact, I knew it _was _a banana, but the sound it made as it hit his head sounded like metal against hollow wood. His eyes rolled to the back of the head, and he fell to the roof with a loud _Clunk! _ And only the snow to soften his fall.

I looked at the scene. Penthesilea and Hippolyte were fighting furiously, killing the robots with almost no effort, and Cynthia fought Alexandria, which was to my surprise, a pretty matched battle.

An automaton surged forward, challenging me. I lifted my sword, noticing it was unarmed, fighting with it's fists... its extremely large, seemingly painful fists. It punched at me, but I scurried out of the way, slipping on the melting snow.

_So much for my new-found 'grace'. _

The robot cupped its fists together, creating a metallic crash noise, lifted its hands over its head, and—

Died?

An arrow protruded from its chest, and I watched as it sparked and smoked, then fell over, and rolled off the side of the train.

That got me wondering.

Carter still lay unconscious on the train, he hadn't slipped off, he just lay there as if he were taking a nap.

I didn't have too much time to focus on that, because something caught me. A scream. I'd heard it before. It was devastatingly high-pitched, and had a tone of distress. It was Cynthia.

Alexandria had her on her back, knife to her throat, right at the edge of the roof of the train. She laughed, and whispered into her ear. She put her first two fingers together, kissed them, and held them at Cynthia's direction. I started in their direction, but the I was too late. Alexandria gave a sharp kick to Cynthia's ribcage, and Cynthia screamed as the force of the blow pushed her over the edge of the train. I rushed to the side, and looked over it, only in time to see her fall to the ground, leaving only her imprint in the snow.

She was gone. To my horror, my only friend, the only person who I could even remotely open up to was gone. Forever. Gone.

The sickening image replayed over in my mind again. The kick in the ribs. The scream. The shape of her body in the snow.

And it was at that moment, that my world caved in around me. I was overwhelmed with emotions; sorrow, rage, hate, blame, guilt, and the jealousy that it was her to die and not me. I just couldn't help it. Tears streamed down my face, and a headache started to pulsate at the back of my brain. I leaned over the side of the train and vomited. Watching someone die was never easy.

Then, I remembered a thought I had earlier, when I thought about how Cynthia had been turning into someone that I would hate because of my father. _Why doesn't he just kill her?_

The truth was revealed. I could never get close like that to anyone ever again. There would be no point. Just sorrow.

The light thought that she could still be alive sparked in my head like a fire, but was immediately dimmed. No one could survive a fall like that. Even with the snow to cushion them.

I stood, wobbling on my knees, to see a smug-faced Alexandria staring back at me. "That's what she gets for making my hair sticky."

I pushed her down on her butt. The fight was still going on around me, but the Amazons had pretty well finished it up. Most of the automatons were dead, and Carter was still knocked out.

"You're a monster," A growled at Alexandria. I could feel the anger burning in me. "And you deserve to die."

"Whatever." She said, readying her dagger.

"But I'm not going to kill you right away. I want you to suffer. Just like I have suffered all these years, and will suffer for years to come. I lay a curse on you. I curse you with the Curse of the Dead." I leveled my sword to her neck, and a ray of light swiftly ran down the blade, sparkling brighter at the tip of the sword, and fizzling out.

What was the Curse of the Dead? I don't know. It was just the worst possible thing I could think of to say.

"Um... okay." She said.

That was the last thing I heard before my world went black. 


	8. Chapter 8

_The air was thick with the smell of dirt. I was on a grassy plain in the middle of nowhere. All around me, people dressed in mid-eighteenth century clothes walked through a labyrinth of bricks that were painted white. The brick seemed to be a fence. Small alcoves kept it from being a completely solid structure. Chains stretched from both ends of the alcove, as if to keep something inside. _

_When I came to my senses, I spun around, suddenly realizing where I was. _

_I was in the middle of a slave auction. My blood boiled as I recognized one of the men behind me. Malcolm—the owner of Elana and her family. There was a black man beside him, though. He was wearing black cloth dress-pants stained with dirt, and a formally white button-up shirt, that was now a light tan or brown color. He towered over Malcolm—who held a whip clutched in his evil palms. It had to have been Elana's husband. _

_Browsers passed by me, looking into the the alcove behind Malcolm. I directed my attention in that direction, and terror immediately spread across my face. Elana, Stephani, and her two sons—whose names I seemed to recall as Sam and Teddy—all huddled into a small corner, crying and holding onto each other. I could hear their sobs over all the bustle around me. _

"_Don't let them take us, Momma." Stephani pleaded, grabbing Elana's waist harder and squeezing._

_She didn't seem to mind. She wiped the tears from her cheek. "Baby, I'll try." She sniffled and looked at her two boys as well. "Just, whatever happens... remember. I'll always love you." _

_The youngest boy wiped the snot from his nose, tears dripping from his eyes. "I'll be in your heart forever, right, Momma?" _

_Elana started to cry more furiously, and she rubbed his head. "Yes. I'll look at the stars, and remember our nighttime sneaks to the lake. I'll listen to the birds, and only hear the sounds of your precious voices. I'll look over the cornfields, and remember how I watched you grow." The way she said the words drew tears to my eyes. It was as if she'd seen this day coming since their birth. _

_The older boy said something. He seemed to be the eldest of the children. "When I look at my reflection in the river while I'm fetchin' the water, and I'll see Daddy." _

"_I'll look at the sunrise, and it'll remind me o'momma." Stephani looked at her mother. "'Cept she's more prettier." _

_Elana's shirt was stained with tears. "Promise me one thing." _

"_What?" The younger boy asked, but all three pairs of eyes were on her. _

_She leaned in close, as if sharing a secret with them. "Promise me you'll run away. Head into the Canada Territories. There's a woman by the name of Harriet Tubman, swear to me you'll find her. She'll help you." None of them answered. But they looked at each other. _

"_Momma?" the older boy asked. "Will we ever see you again." _

_She looked into the boy's eyes, a tear slid down her cheek. "No." _

_The boy went into a pure sob. _

"_Sam, I want you to remember one thing," she told him, hugging him, pulling him in closer. "You are in charge of your brother and sister now. Right now, they need you more than ever. Please, I need you to be strong. Always." _

"_Ye—yes ma'aa-aam." Sam stuttered through his tears. _

_A new voice interrupted the conversation. "May I get a closer look at them?" I turned, a white man held his wife elbow-to-elbow as she shielded the light from them with a yellow umbrella._

"_But of course." Malcolm replied with a cheesy smile. "Andrew—let them out." Elana's husband obeyed immediately, but the slavemaster grabbed his upper arm, and whispered in her ear: "and keep that bitch of a wife of your's mouth shut, or there'll be punishments for the both of you." _

_Andrew unlatched the chain, and frantically motioned the children out. Reluctantly, the filed outside the alcove. The man stepped towards Sam, and raised his hand to his face. Sam flinched. "A jumpy one." the man remarked. But he presumed on. Malcolm shot Andrew a _you'll pay for that later _glare. _

_The man pushed Sam's cheeks opened, and instructed him to open his mouth. Sam did, and the man examined his teeth. I shot a glance at Elana. She was watching intently, her eyes pleading. _

_The white man examined the remaining kids' teeth. After he finished, he studied them for a moment more. _

"_A very nice set. I do Believe I'll buy them from you." He eyed them greedily. "All three." _

_Dollar signs practically flashed in front of Malcolm's eyes. He was too distracted that he didn't notice Elana hop up in the alcove. She slowly made her way near where they were standing, and clasped her hand into Teddy's. _

_The man paid Malcolm, who, at this point, was almost literally drooling. After he had paid, he looked at the kids and said "Come along." _

_None of them budged. They were trying to hide their tears, but I could see them slowly and silently rolling down their cheeks. _

"_I said come along." The man repeated, a tinge of annoyance creeping in his voice. Stephani was the first to give in, most likely not wanting to feel the wrath of her new master before they got home. She started walking slowly. The man grabbed her on the shoulder and started pulling. _

"_No!" screamed Elana as her children were being taken away. She was gasping for air through her sobs. "Please!" she still had hold of Teddy's hand, and was struggling to keep hold, leaning over the side of the cell she was in. _

"_Momma!" Teddy called. _

"_Please!" Elana begged. "Please! Don't take my babies!" _

_My eyes focused on their hands. They were holding on tight, but Teddy was being yanked away. Elana tried to scramble over the wall of the alcove, but she wasn't tall enough. _

_Finally, Teddy's hand slipped out of hers, and she let out a cry that was filled with sorrow. "Don't! Please, come back!" _

_Images flashed before my eyes. The family in the lake at night. The children running through the fields, laughing and playing, as they did very rarely, the family huddling together in a small cabin for warmth, breaking a loaf of bread that the kids would eat, while Elana and Andrew watched, knowing they were both hungry as well. I watched as the kids broke off a portion of their share each and gave it to their parents. _

_Malcolm was furious. He bounded towards Elana, and without saying a word, he struck her across the face. She yelped, and fell tot he ground. A second later, Andrew was at Malcolm. He lifted the small slave driver of the ground, and threw him to the ground. _

_I could see the anger in his eyes when Malcolm lifted his head. I remembered Elana's words._ I will never forget the way my master would look as he beat one of us, the fire behind his dark brown eyes as he whipped us, and hit us across the head or face with whatever was available. It seemed to me he beat the children even harder.

_The white man met eyes with Andrew, stood up, cracked his whip, and said: "you've just made the biggest mistake of your life." _

_I was sure I knew what was going to happen._

_Suddenly, the world around me shifted. I was standing along a dirt-road on a hot summer's night. Beads of sweat was already forming at my hairline. Trees stretched for miles—as far as I could see. The moon hovered just above the tops of the trees, and cast a gloomy shadow over the dirt-road. _

_I could hear shouting in the distance, and the galloping of horses. _

"_We can't outrun them, they're on horses!" A familiar voice broke the silence around me. I turned around. Of course, it was Elana. _

"_We have to try," a woman black woman in ragged clothes gestured to the hill behind us. "The house is just over that hill, we can make it!" _

"_And get the people who live there arrested when they find us? Harriet, you know much better than I that they'll search that house, it's already been suspected that it's part of the railroad." Elana argued. _

_Harriet. Could that really be...? _

"_Then what do you suggest we do?" Harriet returned. "Standing here arguing is doing nothing but losing time." _

"_You're the conductor, you tell me." _

"_I—I don't know. Every time I lead someone and we almost get caught, I've always gotten lucky somehow." Harriet admitted. Then I knew it was true. It was the one and only Harriet Tubman—daughter of Hermes._

"_Please—don't give up now." Elana pleaded with the woman. "I ain't goin' back to my master." _

_Harriet looked around, her eyes searching for possible solutions. "Can you climb?" _

_Elana looked up above her head, and let out a stream of curses. Harriet ignored it, and walked to the trunk of the tree. She lifted the bottom of her skirt up slightly, and hoisted herself up using a branch. Elana followed her lead. _

_I could see the mob now—there were at least ten horsemen, and I was sure that among them was Malcolm. They all waved guns and swords in the air. Most of them were probably after Harriet, who was wanted for her aiding escaped slaves. _

_The fugitives climbed as fast as they could._

"_Maybe we'll blend in," Harriet thought aloud, taking her spot at the top of the tree. _

"_Uh... Harriet, in case you haven't noticed, we're black, not green." Elana corrected sarcastically. _

"_Don't joke about this!" Harriet scolded. "We could both die tonight." _

_Elana's facial expression darkened. She looked as if she were in deep thought for a moment. "This is what we're going to do," she said suddenly. "When they get close enough to see us, I'll drop from the tree, trying to make it look like I fell." _

"_Wha—" _

"_And when they're all distracted with me, you slip out of the tree and into the woods unnoticed." _

"_I can't leave you here to die," Harriet told her. _

"_Harriet, you have to. You have a family to go back to, a home, and most of all, you're needed here on the Railroad. Me—no one will miss me while I'm gone. I don't have a family to go back to anymore, now that Andrew... died. I don't have a purpose. I'd rather die than go back to work for that murderin', child sellin' bastard anyway." _

_Harriet Tubman looked at her. "Elana, you're one of the bravest people I've ever known." _

"_And that, coming from Harriet Tubman, the bravest woman I've ever known, I want those to be the last words you say to me." she looked at the attackers, they were closer now, almost in view. "I d have a request, though. Please, find my children—take them to Canada. I want them to have a better life." _

_Harriet almost said something, but she remembered what Elana had said, and nodded. I heard Elana suck in a deep breath—probably from fear—and plunge out of the tree, landing on the road with a hard thud. _

_Harriet Tubman said a prayer. I tried to listen, but what I heard was "Greg." _

_I listened harder. _

"_Greg." _

_I looked up at her, she looked back. _

"_Greg."_

"What?" I asked, opening my eyes to intense light. A man stood over me—he had jet black hair and wore a stethoscope and a white overcoat. I reached for a clipboard at my bedside, and began writing.

"Patient is seeming to be responsive." He mumbled, then looked at me.

I sat straight up. "Where am I?" I looked at him again. "Who the hell are you?"

The man began writing on his clipboard again. "Patient has no recollection of his whereabouts, and is saying naughty words to the doctor." he looked at me again. "Sow some respect, my dad's in the building."

"Huh?" I asked, spots dancing in front of my eyes from looking into the lights. "Who's your dad?"

"Only Apollo—greatest poet and musician the world's ever known." The man replied.

"Okay..." I said suspiciously. "And that would make you...?"

"Why, my patient, I am Asclepius, god of surgery and healing."

"Oh, um... okay." And then my memory came flooding back to me in an instant. The train—it was supposed to explode, and Estelle KO'ed Carter with a banana, and... and—Cynthia. Cynthia was dead. "What happened with the train? Where's Estelle? How long have I been out?"

He turned to his clipboard again. "Subject is full of questions..."

"Hey!" I yelled at him. "What's going on?"

"Alright, I can answer one question for you—the rest I'm not sure about, but you've been out for approximately three years." He looked at his notes nonchalantly.

"Three _years?" _I was panicked.

He stared at me in the eyes, face fully focused, and then he erupted in laughter.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"You... thought... was.. serious!" He said through laughter. "Three years! Ha! Oh, that's classic. You've only been out for three days. You're in the Erebian Hold Infirmary."

I shed the sheets that covered me and went into a sitting position.

"Where are you going?" Asclepius asked, drawn out of his laughter.

"Anywhere you're not." I answered. The room I was in was just like a war infirmary. It had a small bed stand, a hospital bed, and sheets that acted as walls. I gripped the sheet that would lead me out of my 'room'.

"Okay, but you'll miss the meeting." Asclepius warned.

I turned around. "What meeting?"

"You've been requested to meet with the officers of the army tonight if you were you know... conscious and able to walk and all that stuff." He informed me, and looked me over. "You seem fine to me. Normally, people who pass out and stuff due to injury or something fall in and out of consciousness for days—which I totally don't get, they've been sleeping for Apollo-knows-how-long, and yet, all they want to do is get more sleep. But you seem fine. Kind of weird."

"When is this meeting? Where? Will Estelle be there?" I asked him all at once.

"Well—ah—it's in the dining hall, and it started..." he looked at his watch. "Five minutes ago."

_Crap!_ "Where's the dining hall?"

"It's down the hallway, last door on your left, but hey, Greg, there's something you should know—"

But I was already gone. I'd only known him for ten minutes, but most likely, I'd turn around for the _something I should know_, and he'd say, 'pull my finger'.

I was going as fast as I could go, which, at this point, wasn't very fast, considering that I got dizzy every time I went faster than a light jog. I passed all the other patients and headed straight for the door, the tile feeling cool on my bare feet. I twisted the doorknob and headed down the hall, which was surprisingly wide, and had at least thirty doors on each side. I ignored them. For now.

When I got to the end of the hall, I could hear Asclepius shouting after me. I hesitated when I put my hand on the knob, Cynthia's death suddenly washed over me. For some reason, I felt the sorrow that accompanied her final departure. Knowing that I may never see her again, and knowing that her dying was partially my fault. I didn't know _how _exactly it was my fault, but I knew three things. That I could never get close to anyone like that, ever, ever again. It was just too dangerous. Second, Cynthia was dead, and it was all my fault. And finally, Alexandria would pay for what she'd done.

I fought back tears as I opened the door. The room opened up to me, and I did a quick scan, ignoring everyone who wasn't Estelle. I spotted her sitting at the table, she'd been staring at the chalkboard that Athena was presenting information on. I hadn't a clue Athena was on our side.

Then, I saw something that made my heart skip a beat.

At the head of the table, sat my father, Hades—lord of the dead.

--1--

Asclepius skidded to a halt next to me.

"By chance, was the thing you wanted to tell me was that my father was here?" I asked him, blood rushing to my face.

"Um, no, actually, I wanted to tell you that you were still wearing your hospital gown." He explained.

I looked down. It was true. Here I was, in the presence of gods and battle heroes, and I was wearing a robe that was slit open in the back. I didn't think the day could get any worse until I saw Aphrodite sitting at the table. Then, my face went really red.

"Oh, for gods' sake, someone get that kid a robe." Ares shouted from the table, diverting everyone's attention from Athena to me.

"He's as skinny as a rail!" Demeter shouted, and slapped Hades on the shoulder. "Don't you ever feed your children, brother?"

Asclepius draped a white bathrobe over my shoulders. I muttered something like 'Thank you', but my brain was being turned to mush, so it's a mystery, what I really said.

"Come in," Hades ordered, eying me. He gestured to a seat next to Estelle. "Continue, Athena." The goddess turned back to her chalk boards. The first one was full of information about both sides of the war. It said:

Axis: Allies

HADES Zeus

Athena Poseidon

Ares Dionysus

Apollo Hephaestus

Demeter Hermes

Aphrodite Artemis and the Hunt

Amazons Hera

Chiron

Obviously, It was showing which god was on which side. I sat next to Estelle.

"How about we eat first, and I'll discuss my plans over dinner?" Athena suggested. Hades nodded, and she took her seat next to Ares.

The first course of our meal appeared on our plates. Light salads with the perfect amount of dressing, and a small roll. The table was silent for a while. I kept sneaking glances at my father. He had some nerve, to show up here—knowing I was pissed at him, and on top of that, he wasn't even acknowledging my presence.

Apollo spoke up, obviously trying to break the silence. "Athena, what are our chances of winning this war? 'Cause I've got better things to do than to fight a losing war. I could be... you know. Well—you know."

"Same here." Ares announced, attacking his salad.

"It's very difficult to say," Athena explained politely. "On our side, we have the whole forces of the dead, and the full Amazonian army. While on the other side, they've got the forces of water, air, and Zeus's master bolt. They've also got Hera and her forces of monsters. Not to mention Chiron and the other centaurs."

"Sounds to me we're outnumbered." Penthesilea chimed in. I hadn't noticed her before. "The Amazon numbers are decreasing. We've got operatives all over America right now we'll have to call back." Her sister nodded. Aphrodite kept quiet. She was absorbed in a loose thread in her dress.

"We'll soon have Achilles to lead our fight," Hades explained. He looked at me. "That is, if my son takes time out of his busy schedule sleeping to recruit him."

I practically spat my iced tea across the table—which wouldn't have gone over well with Apollo and Aphrodite. "Huh?"

"Don't act like a fool. If it weren't for you and your 'beauty sleep' I'd already have my commander." Hades said matter-of-fact.

I slammed my dressing-covered fork on the table, and a bit of ranch slung off the tip and landed in Apollo's tea.

"Well, I wouldn't even have been born if you'd have kept your pants on!" I screamed. Estelle tugged at my arm.

"I beg your pardon!" Hades stood, and we were glaring into each other's eyes.

"I don't care whose pardon you beg!" I screamed at him.

"Awesome. Drama." Apollo said with a smile.

We ignored him. Hades collected himself. "I've tried to be nice—to bargain with you, but you're very obviously ungrateful."

"_Nice? _You don't know the _meaning _of the word _nice. _If you think _nice _is giving me freaking ultimatums then you've got another thing coming. Telling me that if I win this war for you—do everything you say, you'll give me my mother back, and if I don't, you'll punish me with immortality—that's evil. And you're evil, Lord Hades."

"You miserable little runt!" Hades yelled. "I ought to teach you some manners!"

"You _ought _to learn some yourself." I mumbled.

"I like him," Demeter beamed up at Hades.

Hades grabbed the front of my robe. "You will learn how to talk to and respect the immortal gods, whether I have to beat you into it or not."

I grinned uncannily. "But you can't, can you?"

He let go, his face drawing pale. "What are you talking about?" he now seemed nervous.

"You can't harm me, can you? You need me. That's why you're pressuring me so hard. And I have a feeling it has something to do with the—what is it? Seal of Destiny?"

Suddenly, all eyes in the room were on me. I could hear gasps from some parts of the table.

"Gregory—don't ever say that aloud again." Athena warned, she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

Hades sat down, and started eating his salad again. I followed his lead—though I'm not sure why.

"Got it!" Aphrodite shouted, breaking the silence, holding the string that used to be attached to her dress.

"So—Lady Athena. You were in the middle of telling us you're plan to conquer half-blood hill." Hippolyte prompted.

"Yes." Athena said, seeming relieved that the fight had stopped, and that I wasn't saying anything. Hades had started it—but of course, the hero's to blame. "Zeus has given us until tomorrow—the winter solstice—to withdraw our forces from the Erebian Stronghold, before he sends his army to remove us. The winter solstice conference on Olympus is still going to take place as planned—however, I'm guessing Zeus will give us one more chance to withdraw from our keep. I suggest, that as he sends his army to attack our Stronghold, we send ours to attack his main keep—camp half-blood."

That suggestion sent chills up my spine.

"But that would leave the Erebian unguarded," Demeter inquired. "That's not a wise decision."

"Yes, but most likely, Zeus will not be expecting us to counterattack. He'll leave only a few to guard his camp."

"What would be the point in taking the camp?" Penthesilea asked. "That would just put us closer to Olympus, and we'd lose all our supplies here in Germany."

"That's the second part." Athena explained. "We should relocate all our supplies to somewhere where Zeus and Poseidon can't take them."

"Where?" Apollo asked, but you could tell he wasn't really interested.

"The Underworld." Athena said, casting a gaze to Hades. "In fact, that should be our main Stronghold. That way, we're in America, and the Allies' troops are all the way in Europe."

"I can't risk an attack on the Underworld." Hades said dully.

"We haven't many other options." Athena explained. "Lord Ares is running out of sword fighters—and Apollo out of cavalry. Our weapons and other supplies are quickly dwindling—and Hephaestus is fighting for Zeus, and Poseidon has the underground Armory."

"I still can't believe he did that to me!" Aphrodite threw a sudden fit. "I told him I was going to fight for Hades's cause, and her purposely chose the opposite. Against his own wife! Okay, sure, he said he was tired of me cheating on him with his brother—but in all fairness, I cheat on him with other people, too."

_She's a nutcase. _

Everyone ignored her. Ares looked at Hades. "Are you sure you want Achilles as your commander? You've got me, and I'm the war god. He's just some dude who got lucky."

"We need Achilles as commander and you as captain, Ares." Hades said simply. Ares looked like he'd never been so insulted in his life.

"And if we're using my strategy," Athena chimed in, "we'll need him by tomorrow."

The whole room turned their attention to me again, awaiting my answer. I turned to Estelle—who was still sitting next to me. "Will you help me?"

She nodded.

"Consider it done." The last thing I wanted to do was something that would help Hades—but I knew that if I did whatever he wanted, and if I made him swear, he'd have to give me mother back. I wanted so badly to ask him why he took Cynthia from me—all she ever did was help me. But now was not the time (Especially since her father was sitting across from me.)

He looked unphased by her death. But—he'd seen deaths of his children before. I turned to the unholy gaze of my father. "Do you swear on the River Styx that you will give me my mother back if I do whatever you say?"

He didn't seem surprised by my asking. "I do."

"Then I'll leave in the morning."

"Would you like me to come along in case he needs a little...convincing?" Aphrodite asked, reapplying her lip-stick.

Apollo snorted. "That would only work if we were trying to convince him _not _to fight for us."

She slapped him on the arm. "Now I see why Artemis is fighting against you."

"If he needs any convincing just... just tell him I'm here." Penthesilea told me.

"What does he care that you're here?" It came out more rude than I meant it to.

Penthesilea waved it away. "He's—just always had a weak spot for me." She blushed.

"You mean he's always had a _thing _for you," Hippolyte teased.

"A _thing?_" I asked. "You and Achilles? Gross. Wait—didn't he kill you?"

Penthesilea sighed, a hint of regret filled her eyes. I could see her face more clearly than I could when I first saw her on the train top. She wasn't wearing a battle helmet. Her face looked young—mid twenties, early thirties, maybe. Her skin was pale, though, her features soft. Her blue eyes shown like reflections of the ocean, and her light brown hair reached just below her neckline.

"Let me tell the story? Please? I just love the romance in it." Aphrodite begged. Penthesilea signed and nodded. "Okay, so one day, Penthesilea and Hippolyte were out hunting, and they saw this dear, and Penthesilea threw a spear but it missed and hit Hippolyte! Which, by the way, I don't get—you used a spear every day. You were used to the weaponry. So how did you _accidentally_ hit your sister?"

Hippolyte chimed in. "Yes, Penthesilea, how _did _you hit me?"

Penthesilea glared at Aphrodite. "I'll tell the story. After I _accidentally _hit my sister, I was overwhelmed with guilt. I wouldn't even pick up a weapon. I went to Troy where I was purified for the deed by the king, and I was so grateful to him, I fought on his side." She looked at the table. "Then, one night we attacked the Greek camp, and I met the Great Achilles face-to-face. He was arrogant, pushy and self-centered. I was sure I could beat him. But in the end..."

"That doesn't sound very romantic." I thought aloud.

"It's not the romantic part yet!" Aphrodite exclaimed. "The romantic part is when Achilles lifts her helmet, and looks at the face of the warrior he'd slain, and fell in love at first sight." Aphrodite looked up at the ceiling in a gaze.

"Since then, he hasn't left me alone!" Penthesilea slammed her fist on the table. "He ended up coming back sooner than I did, and when I came back, he kept IM'ing me and asking me out. I always respectively declined, but did that work? No. And when Valentines day was invented... uggg. The candy, the flowers—sometimes I just wanted to strangle him. I just started ignoring altogether about... oh, I'd say a hundred years ago."

Hades rubbed his temples. "Is story time over now?" He asked. "The bottom line is, we need him here ASAP." He sounded like he didn't think I could do it.

"I'll have him here by noon at the latest." I told him, making sure to put the distaste in my voice.

"_We'll _have him here," Estelle corrected, saying the first words I'd heard her say all night.

"Oh...." Demeter sang. "Stella's got a boyfriend! K-I-S-S-I-N-G." She looked at me, an expression of horror suddenly filled her face. "No! I won't allow it! If he's anything like his father, he'll be a loser! I already lost Persephone to a loser, I won't lose you, too."

Both of our faces were red.

**A/N Okay, I know in TLO, Rick Riordan did Achilles the complete opposite of how I said I'd portray him, but I'd like to let you all know that I will still give Achilles the same personality I told you I would. And, he'll finally be in the story next chapter.**


	9. Chapter 9

Why did all of Germany smell like Alcohol? I mean wasn't it _enough _that you couldn't go half an hour in a taxi without seeing a drunk guy yelling in slurred German at a cat?

And as for the actual taxi's themselves, it seemed that the interior smelled worse than the country. And _that's _saying something.

The rain that poured relentlessly down from the sky set the tone of the day--today, if not executed perfectly, would be a day of bloodshed and war. And the bad thing? I was a huge part of the outcome. If I didn't do this, we could lose so much--our stronghold, our troops, maybe even the war. I hated that I'd been forced to endure through this, I hated my father. But I wanted so badly to be able to reach out and hug my mother again.

It boggled my mind that a father could be so cruel to his own son. I felt like a pawn--like he was only using me, and nothing would excuse me from his wrath. Not even death. I guess the correct word would be trapped. I felt like I was trapped in a small box that kept getting smaller and smaller until I was so cramped that I had to obey the one who had trapped me in the first place.

For now, I'd just listen to my father. Act as if I cared who rules the Earth. And hope that I wouldn't fail him--not because I cared, but because if I failed him, he'd make sure I never felt happiness again.

I looked over at Estelle. She was looking out of the window opposite to me. The rain had gotten so heavy, I could barely see five feet out of the window. The cab driver had slowed down considerably, and was leaning closer to the windshield and squinting in a futile attempt to see better.

"What does he look like?" I asked Estelle. She spun around.

"Hmm?"

"Achilles. What does he look like? I'll need to know if I'm going to get him." I explained.

"Oh. I'll point him out to you when we get in there."

Obviously, we were on two different pages. "Um… you're not going in with me."

"What? Why not?!" She demanded her hair swinging wildly with her protesting head. It wasn't as pretty as it was when I'd originally met her. It was tangled and greasy, since we hadn't had a shower since we'd started on our little _adventure. _

"Because! He'll remember you from the last time you tried to trick him into coming with you!"

"That was years ago!" She contested.

"It's not everyday someone offers you an enchanted pomegranate, now is it?"

"But.." she sighed and slumped back in her seat. "Why did you even ask me to come?"

"Because." That was my only explanation. Truly, though, I was scared. I'd seen what recently happened to Cynthia, and for once, I wasn't jealous of a person dying. I needed to make sure it didn't happen to me. If it did, my life--or _after_life would become much more complicated. When gods say torture, they don't mean smelling the cake in the oven while you have a plate of broccoli in front of you. They mean painful, agonizing torture that lasts an eternity.

That brought my thoughts back to Cynthia. I couldn't help but to feel responsible for her death in some way. She didn't _have _to come with me, but she did anyway, and now, she's dead.

I drifted back to what Alexandria had said a few days ago. It felt like a year ago, and I struggled to remember her exact words. "_What happened, did Miss Sensitivity 1939 find out Gregory doesn't love her back?" _Was it possible that Cynthia liked me as more than just a friend? If she did, why didn't she ever say anything? How could I not notice?

It made no sense, though. Who could actually _like _me? A suicidal son to a father that never cared, who lived in a storage shed in a cemetery, and who complained constantly. Yet, who could put up with someone like that for years without caring for them on a deeper level?

In some ways, I could relate our situation with that of Achilles and Penthesilea. A person who'd fallen in love with someone they had no chance with, who looked past their flaws and saw only the positive.

I stopped my thoughts. I had gone on starting to make assumptions.

The cab slowly screeched to a halt. The driver looked at us through the rearview mirror.

"We here. You pay now? Is costing you much money." He told us in broken English, and tapped on the meter. It read thirty-four dollars in German currency.

As Estelle dug through her bag, I looked out the window at a small black building. I could see into the window, and basically, all it seemed to be was broken technology, mostly typewriters, and just a few fax machines and phones. It was quite dull compared to the rest of Berlin, which, I had seen in the rain.

Estelle handed the man most of what little money Athena had given us to get across town. I had no idea how we would be getting back. All I knew, was the plan was to grab Achilles, and get out. We didn't have much time to do it, either. We had to meet the rest of the army in the Underworld before the siege on Half-Blood Hill began. Before I'd left, Hades had shown me how to create a portal to the Underworld. He'd said 'I should be grateful. He'd never shown anyone how to do it before'. He'd also stressed the importance on closing the portal behind me.

I stepped out of the cab, followed by Estelle, her backpack armed with--um… ammo--slung over her shoulder. The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, I was already soaked to the skin. I hated rain. It always rusted the snaps on my suspenders. We hurried to the cover of an awning just before the door leading into Achilles' shop.

"Wait here," I ordered Estelle. "I'll be right back."

She nodded. I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

--1--

The shop was nice, to say the least.

It was empty, like I'd hoped for. I pretended to look around for a few minutes, and looked behind the desk, and there he was, busily typing something into his typewriter.

Estelle had been right about one thing. He was a _major _nerd. Or, at least, he looked to be a major nerd. His jet-black hair was semi-long and untamed, as his bangs brushed his glasses. The frames on the glasses were pieces of thick black plastic, and the lenses were shaped square and covered most of his upper face. His skin was as pale as the sidewalk would have been on a normal day, and he was tall and slender, with virtually no muscle.

This was the great Achilles? _This _was who my dad expected to win the war for us? I swear, I was losing more and more respect for my father with each passing minute.

Nevertheless, I approached the front counter. "Excuse me…" I looked at the name tag on his shirt. It read _AJ. _"Erm, AJ. I'm having a few problems with my typewriter, and I was wondering if you could look at it for me."

_Lamest. Story. EVER. _

He cocked his head a tad and looked bewildered. It was only then I considered the language barrier.

"Sure," he said suddenly. He looked as if he was searching for it, his eyes darting back and forth. "Where is it?" His voice was monotone and scratchy.

"Um… that's a good question." I said. My face started to light up red. I sighed. "Alright, let's cut the crap. I really have no time for this anyway. I need you to come with me, Achilles.

He drew back a little. "Psh, Achilles, I have no clue what you're talking about. My name is AJ, see?" He pointed to the name tag. "I'm a mortal. I like…doing mortal things."

"Look, surely you know about the war, we need your help." I told him.

"Of course. The war between Germany and the rest of the world…who doesn't? But the government won't let me fight in wars since the incident with the bomb and the small South African village." Achilles said matter-of-factly.

I wondered if my father knew about that little _incident_. Achilles shifted nervously in his seat. "Look, either you fight, or I _make _you fight. You really have…no choice." It was then I realized what I was doing. I was doing the same thing to Achilles that my father was doing to me. I was forcing him to help out with a battle that he wanted nothing to do with.

"Is that so?" Achilles asked, clearly trying to seem tougher. "Well, in that case…" He quickly pounced out of his seat, almost losing his balance, and he grabbed for the nearest broom behind his desk. He got into fighting position.

I sighed. I dropped my backpack on the floor and quickly unzipped it, then I snatched my sword from it.

"Oh, crap." Achilles said. "I--uh… I wasn't counting on the fact you'd have a sword. Well this…this is a little embarrassing. It's a nice one, too. What is that? Stygian?"

"Yep. And if you'd just come with me, I wouldn't have to use it." I hated myself for saying that. I hated myself for doing what I was doing. But I had no choice. I had to do it. If not for my mother, for Cynthia. So that her death wouldn't have been in vain.

"You underestimate me!" He yelled, much louder than necessary. "And so now you will face the same fate as Hector and all the rest of them who have dared cross my path!"

Now, it could have been the pants, that were pulled so high his ankles were visible, or it could have been his dorky plaid suspenders, or the fact that his weapon of choice was a broom, but for whatever reason, I didn't find Achilles threatening at all.

He sprung into action, he lifted the broom over his head, and with a loud _waaaaahhh!_ He swung it with all his might.

I simply stepped back. The bristle side of the broom brushed roughly over the surface of his desk, knocking off a fax machine that he had been fixing onto the floor. It landed with a crash.

"Crap. That's the third one this month." He whined. I wasted no time, I leaped onto his desk, and he scrambled out from behind it. With a blink of an eye, I made another jump, but this time, It was from the _top _of his desk. I tackled him to the floor. We landed with a yelp of pain from Achilles.

"Please tell me you're just out of practice." I said.

"Nope," he said shamefully. "That's about as good as it gets."

"_Great. _And they want to make you the commander of our army."

That seemed to grab his attention. "Commander?" He asked, notably more enthused. But, before I had a chance to answer, a loud crash came from the front of the store.

Estelle had somehow _fallen _through the glass door. She was airborne when I looked over, for a split second, and then she hit the tile floor with a thud, and rolled a few times. Shards of glass fell in rounds. I turned my head and covered both myself, and Achilles.

I ran over to Estelle, who had minor scratches and cuts all over her body. "What the hell, Estelle?! You wanted to get in here _that _badly?"

"Greg," she said through heavy breath, spitting blood onto the floor. "Outside… trouble."

The trouble hadn't stayed outside. A few moments later, Carter and Alexandria strolled in nonchalantly, Carter covered in head-to-toe leather battle armor, and Alexandria in a heavy raincoat with a large umbrella.

"Hello, cousin." Carter greeted me with a fake smile. He turned his attention on Estelle. "I must say, Estelle. You've gotten much heavier than when I used to throw you in the lake." His expression transitioned from an insincere smile to a lofty smirk. "Good thing I've gotten stronger."

My blood boiled at the sight of the two of them. The last time I'd seen them, it'd also been the last time I saw Cynthia. Estelle got to her feet, and reached in her bag for a boomerang banana.

Upon seeing her face clearly, Achilles gasped. "You!" He hollered. "I told you I didn't want any of your demon pomegranates!" I shot Estelle a smug I-told-you-so look, and put my eyes back on my opponents.

Carter calmly took the umbrella from Alexandria, and helped her out of her coat, to refrain from her getting wet. I noticed something as he did, though. The normally tan half-mermaid-human-thing Alexandria was much more pale than usual. I would've ventured to say even more white than Achilles.

"So I see our father's had the same idea, did they?" Carter said.

"Back off, Carter. You're too late. Achilles is coming with us." I spoke up, my voice shaky.

"I am?" Achilles asked.

"Yes, commander." I reminded him subtly.

"That's a shame," Alexandria spoke up. "Did you tell him who he was fighting for?" She looked back at him. He shook his head. She said one word. "Hades."

"Hades?!" Achilles said surprised. "No way in Tartarus am I fighting for that guy! He smells funny!"

Carter shot us a triumphant glance. "Did you hear that, Greg? You're daddy smells funny." He laughed. "I think Achilles will find our offer much more intriguing."

With that, Alexandria walked slowly towards Achilles. He looked at her uneasily, and attempted to step backwards. But she threw her arms over him, and planted a kiss right on his lips.

"Please, _commander, _please fight with us. It would mean _so _much to us." Alexandria said in a low, slow voice.

"You skank!" Estelle shouted at Alexandria, the banana she held in her hands morphed into a grape, and with a snap of her arm, it went flying at the daughter of Poseidon. She squealed and dodged it at the last second. It exploded in a small flash of purple light.

"You throw _one _more grape at me!" Alexandria threatened angrily.

"You're lucky it wasn't an orange!" Estelle replied in a shout.

Alexandria collected herself and cleared her throat. "So what do you say, will you go with us?"

He pushed her away gently. "I'm sorry. I know I'm an irresistible chick-magnet, but my heart belongs to another."

And suddenly I remembered about Penthesilea. "And she'd be _so _disappointed if you didn't come with us and help fight against Zeus and Poseidon."

His eyes lit up. "You have Penny on your side?!"

"Yep. She and her sister are leading The Amazons into battle." Estelle explained. I shot her a look. That was probably a little too much information to give away at this time. But I didn't really care.

"I'm going with you!" He announced.

Alexandria looked crushed and surprised. She'd probably never been rejected before. A feeling she seemed to be becoming more familiar with every time we met. She gathered herself. "Well that's okay. Greg still loves me, right Gregy?"

"More than I love my father." That was the truth.

She shrugged. "It's a start."

"Unfortunately, neither of you three of you will make it out alive." Carter announced in the same way someone would if they were about to rob the store. He looked over at Alexandria and gave a quick nod.

She drew her knife out of nowhere and lashed at Achilles, who was startled by the sudden movement so bad he was able to dodge. "Hey!" He shouted. "Be careful with that thing! It's pointy, you could hurt someone!"

"Hmm…" Alexandria began snidely. "I never thought of that." She laughed and lunged again. I was shocked as he pulled off another successful dodge.

"Get her away from Achilles and let me know when she's about ten feet away!" I called to Estelle over Achilles yelling to Alexandria that he knew broom-fu.

"How?!" She yelled back.

"I don't care!" I replied, and with that, charged at Carter, who was about to do the same to me.

He took the first blow, as my sword successfully ripped into his padded leather battle-pants. It didn't touch his skin, though, as he had the advantage of being prepared for battle, and I didn't.

He attempted to return the blow, but I leaped out of the way and scrambled for the highest point in order to gain an advantage. As I jumped onto Achilles's desk, I got a look at Estelle, who was pelting Alexandria with tomatoes that turned her skin red.

Carter swiped at my feet with his sword, and I jumped, barely avoiding the blow. Instead, he hit a fax machine with such force it went flying off the desk and hurling into the wall with a loud crash.

"_Fourth_ this month," Achilles corrected his statement from earlier. "I'm going to be bankrupt!"

I lifted my sword over my head and brought it down quickly, in attempt to slice Carter's skull, but he lifted his sword up quickly to parry my sword and returned the blow, cutting a clean scratch into my chin. The pain and blood rushed through me instantly.

"Greg, now!" Shouted Estelle. Instantly, I snapped my fingers, and the earth shook momentarily, and then, through the tiles, ten undead warriors crashed into the fight.

A banana thrashed into Carter while he was distracted, and flew back into Estelle's hands. I slid off Achilles's desk and motioned for him, broom in hand, and Estelle to follow.

Alexandria attempted to follow behind Estelle, but Achilles swung the broom, and for a nice change, hit her with a sickening indescribable sound. She fell to the ground and Achilles stepped over her.

"Yes!" He screamed excitedly. "I got one!"

I lead them towards the glass doors, turning off the lights on my way out, making their battle with the zombies even more difficult. If even possible.

We ran through the frames of the door where the glass had once been, and our feet hit the sidewalk. It was still pouring rain, and just to confirm, I stuck my tongue out to catch a raindrop. Just making sure it wasn't beer…

When we hit the curb, I stopped to take a breath. I figured we were safe for the time being.

"Do you realize how much your visit is going to cost me in repairs?" Achilles asked angrily.

"Sorry," I said sympathetically. We did kind of trash the place--and pretty much ruin business for him. I figured we had about four minutes until the Berlin police showed up. "Do you have a car?"

"I don't know…if I say yes will you ruin that, too?" He snapped.

"No." I assured him, even though Estelle and I both knew we probably would.

"Fine. Follow me. Where are we going, anyway?" Achilles looked down at me. One of the lenses on his glasses was shattered, and he had a small cut on his arm.

"You just need to drive us to a cemetery. Any cemetery." I told him.

"Oh, I can't drive." He told us as he began to lead us toward a near-by parking lot.

"You… can't drive?" Estelle asked, irritated. She had many cuts on her face, arms and legs, and there was blood spattered all over her dress.

"Nope." He responded, as if it were no big deal.

"Then why did you say you could?!" I demanded in a yell.

"I didn't. You just asked if I had a car. Not if I could drive it." Achilles informed me. He looked at me through his broken glasses. I couldn't get too mad. I had to remember he was doing me a favor.

"How do you get to work?" Asked Estelle.

"My roommate drives me. He works with me. He's on his lunch break right now. Good thing, too, I guess." Achilles laughed. His laugh was annoying, full of snorts and he spit. A lot. "I figured one of you could drive."

"We're fourteen," Estelle told him, annoyed.

"How was _I _supposed to know that?" He asked, offended.

"Can we focus please?" I interrupted them. "We'll figure it out. But we have to get out of here. Now." Sirens began blaring in the distance.

**A/N So four hours and two cups of coffee later, it's done. In case you haven't noticed, it's been a while since I've updated. I blame that on marching band. But now, it's pretty much over. I'd like to thank all of you who have been begging me to update and still reviewing and adding it to story favorites and things like that. You guys are awesome, and I hope you like the new chapter. The next one will be up…soon. I promise. **


	10. Chapter 10

Taking off down the alley, I racked my brain for what we should do next. I had half a mind to let the police apprehend us-but that would be pointless, and only make my father more angry with me than he already was. No-there was no easy way out of my situation-now, or in any situation I had ever been in.

I'd grown accustom to having no way out, unlike everyone else in the world, who had death as an ultimatum. Odd thing, it was-I was trying to avoid life, while at the same time trying to steering away from death. My life, at this point, had become nothing but a paradox. I felt as if I was the twilight, in which it's not quite yet the night, and at the same time, it's not daylight. And that I was trapped in a box that was shrinking, growing smaller and smaller each and every moment, and in the end, the only true way out would be to become the exact thing I hate the most.

There was one thing, at this particular moment, I could praise. The rain had silenced, and a wall of fog separated us from the police, and Alexandria and Carter.

I could hear them, shouting orders in perfect German-a language I had grown to despise. To me, it sounded like they were all trying to cough up loogies. But somehow, over all the shouting, I could hear a distinct shout.

"_Gregy!"_

It was so faint, I wasn't sure I was even hearing it. I stopped running. The fog around me consumed everything-I looked down, only to find my shoes were barely visable in the mist.

"_Gregy, where are you?" _I head it for sure this time, followed by a flirtatious giggle. I resisted to call out _"Here! I'm here, Lexi!" _I had to keep reminding myself that Alexandria was a siren, and that she'd kill me the first chance she got.

I didn't have time to wonder how they'd gotten past the undead-warriors I had left with them so quickly, because I looked around me; there was no sign of Estelle or Achilles. My mind raced at a thousand times faster than it had been racing previously. Which, was a lot for someone who'd dropped out of school when nap-time was a required course.

I took a second glimpse around me. I had no clue where I was-I could barely see the road under me. Or was it grass? I was encased in a block of atmospheric nothingness, and I could hear Alexandria's sweet, wonderful voice getting closer. As the total effects of panic started to take over, the more I was tempted to call back to her-to see a familiar face in this maze I had lost myself in.

"_Gregy! Come and play!" _Alexandria sang seductively. She was so close to me…I could hear her voice directly behind me. _"Please, help me, Greg! I can't see through all this fog!" _

I tightened my grip on the stygian sword in my hand, and clamped my eyes shut as tight as they would allow, plunging me into total darkness. I knew I should move, but I couldn't risk getting even more lost-or worse, running into Alexandria in the mist.

As she called again, her voice had become the most appealing it had ever been. I knew she was at her most beautiful when she was in her mermaid form, but she was still very good-looking in her human state. All I could do was imagine her luscious smile, and the way her eyes lit up when she saw me.

But then, by some miracle, I snapped out of it. I no longer thought of her beauty-I could only see the look of determination on her face whenever we fought each other…the look she got when she was desperate for the kill. I'd seen it on her face many times before, when she'd been determined to end my life-and when she actually did end Cynthia's.

Overcome with a sudden rage that did anything _but _satisfy my greatest judgment, I took my sword and slashed in the direction I'd last heard her voice come from. I could hear her dodge it through the fog.

"Careful! You almost hit me!" She shrieked. Slowly, I could see her figure materializing in the fog. I couldn't see all of her yet, but I could see some of the most important parts. Like the dagger in her hands…and her legs-but that part was just the virgin in me surfacing itself.

"Good. Stand still next time." I snarled. I kept my sword on the defensive stance. I couldn't take any chances with the siren daughter of Poseidon.

The figure image of her in the fog crossed her arms. "Ouch, what's with the hostility, babe? Just a few minutes ago, you told me you liked me better than you like your own father."

"That's not a compliment." I responded, with more aggressiveness in my voice. "And _don't _call me babe. I'm not anything to you but a cousin, and an enemy."

Ignoring the last part of my statement, Alexandria proceeded to start a conversation with me. Stepping closer, revealing most of her body except for parts of the upper-half, she asked, "Not a big fan of daddy, are we?"

"No. I'm not particularly thrilled with most of my family." I started praying to every god on my side of this filthy war for an escape out of here. I knew she was planning something more than casual small-talk after I'd just left her for dead.

"Me either," she continued, shrugging her shoulders and sighing. "I despise my father, and Carter's father isn't exactly on my A-list right now either. Greggy, can I tell you a little secret of mine?"

"No, but you're going to anyway, most likely."

"You know me so well, this is why we're such a good couple!" She squealed.

"We're not a couple." I reminded her, my voice remaining low and monotone, as one would expect a son of Hades to sound. "In fact we're cousins. I may have last lived in North Carolina, but I wasn't in the south long enough to be comfortable with dating cousins…"

"All in good time." Alexandria assured me. "Anywho, Carter's dad, you know Zeus…he has this reputation of being a sort of _ladies man…"_

"Uh….huh…." I said, while at the same time thinking, _why the hell am I sitting her listening to this?_

"Well, he sort of…we're having an affair." She said it as if she were embarrassed.

That, was no doubt, the most disgusting mental image that had ever seared my brain. I felt as if I were close to vomiting.

"It was his idea…" She defended, but then completed her statement with, "the first couple times."

"I'm…grossed out, yet at the same time not surprised at all." I responded, still trying to recover from the puke-tastic mental images.

"But shh…" she reached through the wall of fog, catching me off guard, pressing one finger to my lips and giggling flirtatiously. "Don't tell daddy, he'll be very angry his daughter…umm.."

I smacked her hand from my face. "Is a slut?" I offered. I could see her face more clearly now, as the fog was clearing, I could tell she had been offended by my comment. Not that I cared, or that I had said anything that everyone didn't already know.

"I wouldn't put it that way, but…yeah. Pretty much." She laughed awkwardly. And when I say _awkwardly, _I mean for me.

"I'm sorry to dump all this…_girl talk _on you like this, Greggy-boo-boo, but I had to tell someone all this. Someone I that I knew wouldn't tell anyone. And I'm sure that you won't say anything, because, well, you'll be dead." She said matter-of-factly, as if she were telling me the square-root of sixteen.

Before I even had time to react, she came at me, knife at the ready.

Her dagger appeared out of the fog in just enough time for me to dodge it's deadly blade. Using my ever-increasing battle-smarts, I leapt from Alexandria's range, tucking and rolling on the concrete below, instantly feeling the sting of the pavement penetrating my skin, and feeling the before-effects of the painful bruise that would soon inhabit my shoulder.

I pounced to my feet, wobbling a bit as I regained control over my body, and another blow from Alexandria's knife came rushing towards me. I could barely see her, but I could surely see her blade. This time, I was able to dodge and strike back. My sword clanged against something metallic, most likely her dagger.

But suddenly, two red orbs appeared through the wall of fog. I stopped in mid-blow, and squinted my eyes at the mysterious figures.

"What the…?" I asked out loud. But before I was able to finish my sentence, an ear-splitting cry in the mist-and it was as close to me as Alexandria had been not ten seconds ago. I closed off my ears with the palms of my hands, as the deafening call of the creature wailed on, echoing through the streets of Berlin.

Though my ears were covered, I could hear the creature very clearly as it spoke, voice high pitched and raspy-almost like a really loud and obnoxious parrot. _"Bad son of Hades! Zeus punish! Zeus punish!" _

I slowly lowered my hands from my ears, and stared into the orbs of floating majesty. "You're…not Alex." I mumbled.

"Gregy!" Whined Alex's voice from somewhere around me. It sounded like it was coming from every direction; even the impossible ones, like below and above me. "It insults me that you'd think I was that…thing even for a second! I'm much prettier!"

"In my defense, you're both equally as annoying." I called back, not able to see where my voice was traveling in this thick atmospheric wasteland.

"Rude!" She cried out, and that was immediately followed by a thud. Next thing I knew, I was on the concrete road again, face down, and my back was killing me. The she-devil had got me from behind. At least I'd been wary enough to keep from landing on my sword-that would have been the most embarrassing way to die. "Toodles, Gregy!"

Before I even had the chance to wonder why she was saying _toodles _to me, I felt a sharp pain subdue my shoulders. I cried aloud and my who body cringed, it was as if someone had taken three or four small daggers to each of my shoulders and were slowly letting them slide in.

Tears rushed to my eyes as I realized that the source of the pain was the creature whom the red orbs belonged to…and that they weren't orbs at all, they were eyes.

The monster jolted upward, dragging me into the air after it. It went straight up with amazing speed, tearing my flesh with each stroke of it's wing. I yelled out again. I tried to lash out at the terrible thing with my sword, but it's talons were ripping at my muscles, rendering both my arms useless.

I stopped struggling, hoping that it would ease the pain. I looked down gently, so that only my neck would move and not the rest of my body. Biting down on my cheeks in attempt to numb the pain, I began to taste the warm sensation of fresh blood. However, I also noticed that the fog was clearing-and…I could just barely make out two figures on the ground, far below me. It was Achilles and Estelle, searching for me through the fog.

"Estelle!" I cried, my voice was raspy and limp with pain and agony. I tried again, this time, attempting louder. "Achilles! I'm up here!"

They still didn't seem to notice me, and so, thinking on my feet, I did something that is common sense for every hero _not _to do. I disarmed myself-letting go of the sword that was in my hand, and letting it fall to the ground. That was my last shot at getting them to notice me, and hopefully it worked…and didn't kill either of them.

As for me, at this point, the sword was deadweight. Even if I had it, I wouldn't be able to use it. And-on the chance that I died, Estelle would have something to defend herself with that you couldn't find at your everyday fruit-stand.

_They's commin', baby, don't you worry none, _I recognized the voice in my head instantly. It was Elana.

And for the first time in a while, even through the searing pain that was all over my body, I smiled.

The monster slowed it's flying, and literally threw me onto a nearby rooftop, and perched itself nearby at the ledge. The fog was close to nonexistent now, and I could see the beast clearly. Sharp, long, talons drenched in blood-my blood-a skeletal, almost zombie-like leathery body, with long, barely feathered wings.

"_Bad son of Hades!" _The beast repeated. _"I kill and bring Zeus your scraps for dinner!" _

"I think they have more appetizing things on Olympus than a demi-god dragged in by an old-lady-bird hybrid, okay, Elvira?" I snapped at her weakly, coughing up blood.

"_Skanky daughter of Poseidon was right, you're very rude!" _

"So let me get this straight , you dig your filthy claws into me, yank me up here, throw me down, tell me you're going to kill me, call my uncle a cannibal, and _I'm _the rude one?" I reminded myself that I needed to stop being such a smart-ass in situations like this one.

For an instant, I looked into the eyes of the harpy. They glowed like burning charcoal, and then she lunged at me, mounted me as I lay still on the roof, and pinned down my useless arms with her talons. Without hesitation, I kicked my legs, and she cried out as she was pushed off my body, and rolled across the rooftop, coming very close to edge.

I stood up, nothing that my suspenders were torn and my shirt was soaked in blood, and the harpy had opened new slits on my arms when she attempted to pin me down.

"Caaaw!" She cried in frustration, as she readied herself for a second attempt to attack. I racked my brain for some form of defense. As she began her charge, I thought back. Memories flashed before my eyes faster than lightning in a thunderstorm.

All the times I'd fought in the past, I'd used my sword. But-one memory seemed to stand out. Back on the train in what seemed to be forever ago, I'd cursed Alexandria…or so it had seemed. I woke up in an infirmary a few days later. It… was worth a shot. Certainly better than dying if it worked. But-if it had had any effect, why was Alexandria still here today? Maybe she had gotten sick when I did? I had no chance to think about it.

"I place upon you, _the curse of the dead!"_ I yelled at the loudest my voice would allow at the moment. In mid charge, a look of horror crossed the monster's face.

"_You can't…!" _She began in a screech, but suddenly, her whole body began to morph. She seemed to look older, more wrinkly…less leathery, and she was getting smaller and smaller. I looked in her eyes, and saw that same fear that had been in my eyes several moments before. She began to shrink, almost shrivel, if you will, or wilt as would a flower.

Before my eyes, bleeding and half dead, the creature dissolved into an ash. But it wasn't the usual gold ash that followed a monster's death. It was black, almost like the night. Or, in essence, almost like death. An ambiguous and eerie mystery that you never truly solve.

And with that thought, I blacked out.

-1-

"Greg, wake up," a voice stirred me from my sleep. "Greg, please. Your dad wants to talk to you. He says it's an emergency."

That got my attention. I shot up so fast I got dizzy. I looked around….I was still on the roof, the black ash on the next to me, my slowly-scabbing wounds still bleeding, but most of my blood was on my shirt, or I was laying in it. I was close to death myself.

At second glance, I could see the Iris Message, that showed my father's _loving _face giving me his famous _take your time dying, 'cause I don't want to have to put up with you for the rest of eternity look._

"Are you taking a _nap?_" He barked, his sharp eyes narrowing in displeasure.

"Yeah," I responded. "You should try it sometime. Maybe you wouldn't be so damn crabby."

"Don't test me, you indolent shrew." Hades snapped. "I'm only doing the honor of checking up on you because I need to know of the situation with Commander Achilles."

"He didn't want to be on your side, surprise, surprise," I began, "but I convinced him. I used the whole _crush _thing against him. The things people do for love, I'll tell you, it's funny."

"Whatever." He said impatiently. "Where are you? It looks like there's going to be a bigger battle than we thought."

"What do you mean?"

"My gods, son, are you incompetent?" Hades snarled. "We've been tricked. Zeus and Poseidon sent all their forces to the camp, and if you were paying any attention last night when we were going over our plan of attack, we weren't expecting that sort of number. We may lose this battle, and I will blame _you _if we do."

Shocker. The dumb shit is going to blame me for something that I didn't do. Anything to torture me, I suppose. "Why?"

"Do I have my commander yet?"

"No…"

"Now you know why."

_Well I'm soooo sorry that I almost bled to death, and had that not killed me, I probably would have drowned in my own pool of blood. _"How did they know we were going to the camp?" Just thinking of the place gave me chills. Sons and daughters of Hades weren't usually welcomed there. Especially now, considering the circumstances.

"I'm to assume we have a spy among us." Hades explained. From behind him, I could hear the hustle of our army, scrambling to find a solution, and to prepare for battle.

There was a pause. I bit my lip as I thought about this. "One of the half-bloods?"

"Better one of them than one of the gods." Hades replied. "I am not exactly sure. Right now everyone looks suspicious to me. Then again, I'm suspicious of everyone all the time."

"No kidding…." I bit back the rest of that statement. "So what do you want me to do? I'm not exactly there. I'm not even in America."

"Yet." Said Hades. "But you will be. Apollo is on his way to pick you, Achilles, and the little fruit girl up." I shot a glance over to Estelle. She looked pissed by his comment, but she said nothing. Achilles sat next to her, looking a bit sick from seeing me still sitting in a pool of my own blood. "There's council meeting for the officers of each side coming up very soon. I expect all three of you here, and in full battle armor."

I looked down at myself. I was wet from the rain earlier, and my clothes had taken on a bright red color in most places. "Do I look like I'm in any condition to fight?"

"You have the god of healing coming for you, Gregory," he said, annoyed. "Will you think for once on your life? Besides, maybe your little girlfriend has something in her backpack-a pineapple that turns into a band-aid or something."

I heard her breathe a heavy sigh, but I did not look at her. "Whatever. We'll be there."

"I know you will. You know the consequences of disobedience." He said, with a smirk on his face, which, a sly smirk or a grim spread of the lips were his way of smiling, and he dissolved the connection.

And again, it was the three of us. All we had to do, was wait for Apollo.

**A/N So, my readers, you have a decision. I'd first like to apologize for my absence. But, after reading this latest chapter, do you think that I should continue this story? If not, I'll probably leave, but I myself do believe I've lost my touch. If you don't, and would like me to see the story to the end, I will do so. Thank you all. **


	11. Chapter 11

I just laid there until Apollo came.

It's kind of odd, the things you think about when you're bleeding to death. Because the funny thing was, I hadn't _actually_ felt the pain in a while. All I felt was me growing weaker and weaker. After a few minutes, my eyes were beckoning me to shut them. I fought with all the force I had left in me to keep them open—due to the fact that if I closed them, there would be no reopening them—not in this world.

Estelle squatted next to me in the pool of blood; she had ripped the buttons of my shirt, and had somehow managed to take it off of me—not without pain, of course. She now hovered over me, gently pressing the cloth into my wound, trying to suppress at least _some _of my blood from spilling onto the rooftop.

She ran her fingers through my jet black, dirty hair, leaving streaks of my blood to harden in my hair. I didn't stop her though. Something about the action was soothing me, making me think everything was going to be fine. That Apollo would get here, heal me, and then take us to our next battle. Which, I was kind of looking forward to, for reasons I'd rather not try to identify.

Achilles waited over at the corner of the roof, trying to make it easier for the sun god to locate the rooftop. After all, there were hundreds here in Berlin. Gods, I hoped he would hurry. Likely, he didn't even know that I was hurt, and didn't know he _needed_ to hurry. But, for whatever reason, I resented the idea of death right now. For once in my life, I didn't want to die.

A bubble was forming at the pit of my stomach. I could feel it making its way through every cavern of my body. For a second, it felt like I was about to explode. I tried to voice what was about to happen, warn Estelle that if she didn't want my guts all over her dress, than she needed to move. But when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out. It was getting closer—I could feel it like fire working through the pits of my stomach.

Estelle noticed my strain; she looked onto me with loving concern. She didn't say anything, as if she knew that I wouldn't be able to respond. I could feel all the pain in my body now—the shoulder, the scrapes and cuts, every little bit of it. My head pounded in agony, and my eyes just wanted to close, but the disturbance in the depths of my stomach was much, much worse than any pain I'd ever felt.

It felt like something inside of me was ripping—something that was vitally important, and that it was slowly but surely tearing itself apart inside my stomach. The colors before my eyes began to morph. Everything began to take on a reddish tint to it. Even the fog around us started to seem like it was nothing but a red mist.

Estelle looked even more concerned as my body tensed up more, and I started blinking like a mad man, trying to return my eyesight to the proper contrast. But it seemed that every second, the color got darker, redder. Then, I realized what it was. Blood, of course.

I wondered if Estelle could see the red in the surface of my eyes, or if it was just inside the eyeballs. I started to push myself upward with the good shoulder, that wasn't exactly in perfect shape either, like the rest of my goddamn body. Estelle placed her hand that wasn't covering the wound up against my spine, supporting me, helping me up.

All of a sudden, the bubble lurched through my stomach, and quickly jolted through my body. I took on a coughing fit while it was still racing through my passageways, burning and rubbing everything it touched.

Suddenly, the coughing turned less of a dry hack, and into more of a get-this-shit-out-of-me cough. I realized what was going on when I could taste the first hint of blood coming up my throat. My instinct was to swallow, almost like you do when you are sick and cough up snot. But I didn't want to taste the blood for any longer than I had to.

I turned my head slightly, and saw Achilles paying no attention to me, probably literally hacking my lungs out. But each second that passed was accompanied by a cough, which got louder and grosser every single time. I could feel the blood in my throat, and I was struggling to breathe. Estelle gently started patting and rubbing my back, probably scared to death and having no clue what to do.

The coughs got harder on my throat, and nastier sounding each and every time one escaped me. Then, I felt the first spatter of blood leave my throat. And suddenly, I just wanted it to be over. I started to force to coughs, get harder on myself, feeling the blood work its way through me and out of me. As the coughs got harder, the blood got thicker, and the taste in my mouth got stronger. The all the coughing was making my throat sore, and my abs were getting tired of the flexing, but I didn't want to stop—I wanted to get all of the bad stuff out of me.

After a while, I began to notice the consistency of the blood was much too thick. Trust me; I _knew _what blood looked like. All too well, as I was sometimes convinced. And then I realized, what I was really coughing up. A mixture of blood, and my own snot. Which, was totally gross.

When the coughing subsided, and I had finished the _feeling sorry for myself _business, I suddenly threw up. Which, of course, helped my now sore throat _oh _so very much.

Estelle guided me back to my original laying down position, and slid her hand out from in between my back and the concrete. I tilted my head some, and looked at the mess I had made—the mess I was laying in. A mixture of blood, mucus, and of course, puke.

I lifted my head up, and banged it against the concrete, then spoke my first words in a while. "Ew."

Estelle began gently stroking my hair again, her hand, and much else of her body covered in blood. "I wish we had some nectar to give you. I hate seeing you like this."

I could feel my cheeks turn the color of the stuff I was just coughing. "It's fine. I wouldn't let you waste our resources on me."

"Like I'd ask your permission," she said snidely with a friendly laugh. Her voice was soft. "Have I ever?"

"No," I smiled for the first time in—I didn't know how long. "Will you ever?"

"Nope." She said, with a smile. I could feel my heart start to race—it was something about the way she looked in that moment that just, made me feel like she was a different person than the one I'd met in the Labyrinth. She took her hand from my hair, and I could feel it sliding downwards past my cheeks, down my neck, and onto my chest. I could feel her warm, soft hands caressing my bare and bloody chest.

She realized what she was doing, and pulled away quickly, looking embarrassed. "Sorry…" she apologized.

"It's fine," I replied, avoiding her eye contact. "I should be the one to apologize."

Her head turned back and our eyes met again. I could see the confusion in her eyes, which were at the same time, appealing to me. Almost like the eyes of a teddy bear—something you just want to hug, squeeze tightly and never let go. "Why?" She asked.

"The way I've treated you," I explained. My voice was thin and raspy, and very faint. Even I had trouble understanding parts of what I was saying. "Ever since we started this whole thing, with me, you and Cynthia, we kind of shut you out. Made you the enemy. But you weren't. You were just trying to help."

I waited for her to say something, but she just looked down at the puddle of blood that we were in. So I kept talking. "I think we were just jealous—jealous of the fact that you were so much more organized and put together, and we were two kids off the streets of North Carolina. Jealous that you are perfect, and we are not." For a second, it sounded like I thought Cynthia was still with us.

"You still think I'm perfect?" She sounded a tad disappointed, but she was looking me in the eye.

I bit my lower lip a second, and grimaced from pain I was pretending to feel at that point, just to have something to do. Finally, after a semi-long pause, I spoke.

"Yes," I answered her, and her head trailed downwards slowly once more. "But now, I'm thinking it's not a bad thing at all."

She looked back up at me, a surprised but pleased look on her face. I _was_ starting to believe she was perfect. But not in the same way I did before—in a more pleasant way—in a way that I felt she was vulnerable, and I needed to protect her, and that that protection would be returned when needed, in times like this moment. This moment, while I'm in pain and close to death, but with her by my side I feel no pain, and I feel like there's hope. This moment was made for us—the epitome of the word _perfection._

Was it possible that I had fallen for Estelle? That I thought she was perfect….romantically? Could that even happen to me? Had Aphrodite finally decided it was my turn? And, if so—would Estelle feel the same?

I decided then and there that I'd never know…at least not now. I had no room for this in my life. All I wanted to do was get my mother back. Maybe _then _I'd have a shot with her—that is, if this truly was infatuation, and if I still felt the same afterwards.

The silence was long. In fact, it lasted until Achilles began jumping and waving. "Here! _Here! We're over heeeeeeerrrrrrreeeee!" _

"I think that's our queue," Estelle began. "Ready for him to heal you?"

"I've been ready…" I grumbled.

-1-

Inside the sun "chariot"—which was some sort of Ford, don't ask me, I'm a street-orphan—the combined muscle of Achilles and Estelle was enough to lay me across the cold leather seating.

"Please," Apollo leveled himself to my eye level. "Try not to bleed on my interior. I just got the inside of this place clean." He smiled an odd smile.

"I was kind of hoping you could…fix me?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

For once, the sun god seemed annoyed. He rolled his eyes and placed a hand on my wound. There was a brief flash of light, and all of a sudden, I wasn't bleeding or hurting. I felt better than I had all week. It was just that simple.

Apollo looked over at Achilles. "You are very lucky I agreed to this after what you did." They were locked in a death glare with one another.

"What is he talking about?" Estelle asked Achilles. I'd never seen Apollo so cranky and annoyed. Either he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or he switched bodies with Dionysus.

"A few….thousand years ago," Apollo began. "Back at Troy, he raped a priestess from a temple they had to me. Raped her, and if memory serves, kept her as a sex slave."

We both stared at Achilles, Estelle's mouth had dropped, and my eyes were wide with shock. He looked at each of us, and threw his hands up in frustration. "I did _not _rape her!"

"Minotaur-shit!" Apollo yelled at him.

Estelle spoke up, pushing a portion of her bangs from her eyes. "Now, lord Apollo," she began. "If he says he didn't, it may be the truth…I mean, does he honestly look capable of rape?"

We all began to look the skinny little computer technician over. His suspenders, thick, square-framed black glasses, adult acne, extremely long legs, and a bowl haircut. No, he didn't exactly look like a rapist.

"Does he look like someone who could get someone to give it to them willingly?" Apollo countered, flashing a snide smile and showing us his perfect, Antarctic-ice-white teeth. And with that, he moved to the driver's seat, turned the key, which was attached to a key chain that said _My Friends Went To Mt. Olympus and Didn't Even Get Me A Freakin' T-shirt!_

That was the last thing I remember looking at before I fell asleep.

-2-

I was surprised that I didn't dream of Elana. Actually, I hadn't dreamt of her in a while. The thought crossed my mind, _has she given up on me? _I knew there was a message that Elana wanted me to pick up from her life story. But, I still couldn't figure out what. And all the dreams…they were confusing. Didn't children of the Big Three usually have dreams about their futures? Dreams that made them question their choices? Dreams that could drive them insane?

I didn't have much time to be all _philosophical _about my dreams and what not. The second we'd arrived at camp, I was being tugged and yanked and prepped for the counsel with the officers of the other army. I didn't know why my father wanted me to do this, or even what I was supposed to say. All I knew, was I was supposed to turn into the _yes sir, no sir _robot my father always wanted me to be.

We were met by several other half-bloods, who whisked us all four away, through the temporary campsite that they had all made on the hill's underside, in full view of the very edge of Camp Half-Blood. There were several tents, and racks of weapons strewn about. Soldiers rushed about the campsite, all preparing for battle, eager to be the victors. All wanting to be the heroes of the Battle on Half-Blood Hill.

The small group rushed us into the largest tent, a huge beige bulge in the middle of the site. Once we were in, they turned to us, bowed at Apollo, and vanished away.

"Well, well," I heard my father's unpleasant voice. "Better late than never I suppose." He stood up from the formation of chairs that had been set up in the middle of the room. I noticed that there were enough for each of the gods, and only two left. Most likely for Achilles and Apollo, leaving Estelle and I to stand.

My father looked Achilles over, and then back to the gods behind him, who were doing the same. "What kind of joke is this, Gregory?" My father snapped, directing his almost black eyes to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, very, very confused.

"I ask for Achilles, and you bring me…" his voice trailed off as he thought of an insult. He looked at Achilles. "What do you do for a living?"

"Computer technician." Achilles answered.

"A computer technician!" Hades howled.

"You mean you didn't know he was Super-Nerd?" I asked my father, trying not to get angry.

"Of course not!" My father growled. "I mean, I'd heard things, but I never believed them."

"And that's _my _fault?"

"Yes."

"Can we _focus?_" Athena pleaded to stop the fight. "Hades, Apollo, Achilles, please take your seats. She looked at Estelle and I. "You two listen up as well."

Almost insulted at being ordered around by a woman, the three looked at each other, but obeyed. Estelle and I looked at each other; it was a tad awkward, us not knowing what to do. I couldn't help but to notice how pretty she looked-even caked in blood and dirt.

"Now, as we were saying, Zeus—"Athena began, but Aphrodite interrupted her.

"Can you put a shirt on?"

It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. I looked down. It was true; I was still shirtless from my encounter back in Germany. It was less than five hours ago, yet, it almost seemed like a year.

"Oh…uh...sorry." Once again, my face turned red.

"It's fine, " Aphrodite said, looking in another direction. "It's just….you're all pale, you have no muscle, no sexy body hair, and you're how old? Fourteen? Fifteen? It's just really, really gross."

I looked down at my chest. It wasn't _that _bad in my opinion. If she didn't like it now, she definitely wouldn't have liked it earlier, when it was covered in scratches and scrapes from battle scenes. Surely, I was pale, but, paleness was in my blood. Hell, I spent most of my time in the sun, and it never turned my skin into that copper-gold color that everyone strived to get.

"Just put on your battle-armor," Athena suggested. "We're leaving soon anyway." She kind of sighed, as if what she had wanted to say to everyone was super-important, and that no one cared.

I looked around the room. There were two sets of battle armor mounted on stands in the corner. They were shaded in black—the officer's color theme for our side: the normal armor color for regular soldiers was red.

Ares saw me eying it reluctantly. "It's not going to bite you, dork." He laughed, as if that were actually funny.

"I know that," I snapped back. He looked surprised that I would talk to him like that. "I'm just….thinking."

"We don't allow free-thinkers here," Demeter croaked. She looked at Estelle. "You're not dating this boy, are you daughter?"

I looked at Estelle's cheeks for any sign of blushing, but there was none, as her complexion was too dark. "No mother," she said with a sigh. "I'm not."

"Good," Demeter remarked. "He's too skinny, too tall, too….son of your sister's no-good husband, too scary. Do you have enough fruits to last you this battle, darling?"

The sudden change in subject seemed to throw Estelle off. "Uh…yeah."

"Alright, love," the crazy old bat said to her. "Go change clothes," then she looked at me. "And if you try to go for any cheap feels on my daughter, she's got an orange and knows how to use it!"

_Wish I could say there was no chance of that happening…. _"Yes, Lady Demeter. I understand."

We turned away from them, and Athena had started their conversation again. Something about working up some sort of negotiation of territories with the other army. We tuned her out.

"Did you hear the way they were talking to me?" I asked. "All of them…pointing out every single thing that was wrong with me!" I began taking the armor off the stand and putting it on piece by piece.

"There's nothing _wrong _with you, Greg," Estelle whispered. "They're just all nervous. Think about what happens to them if they lose this battle—not to mention this war. The Olympians are fighting against each other, Greg. That's never, ever good."

"Think about what will happen to _all _of us," I said to her, while struggling to get inside my plate-armor pants. "If we lose, and the Olympians can't settle their differences, the whole world will change." I thought about it for a second. "And if we win, and my father takes over…." I shivered at the thought.

That's all this was—a huge battle for control. A battle that took places thousands of years ago, and is now taking place again. I just….couldn't understand why. There were just so many things about this that made no sense to me, and I was just acting like my father's little puppet and going along with it. How could I do that? I'd gone soft. I'd let my mother down.

"This will be over soon," Estelle said. "The outcome is doomed either way, but at least it will be over."

"That's what I'm saying!" I snapped kind of loudly—I looked over to see Apollo and Aphrodite staring at me. They then turned back to each other, ignoring Athena and carrying on their own conversation. I lowered my voice a little; almost as if we were in a library. "It _won't _be over. The after-effects of this will last for a long time—decades, centuries—who knows? It could last forever."

"Let's not think about it that way, okay?" Estelle said. She looked me straight in the eyes, and I saw something that I'd never seen before inside her. Fear. She was scared. We both were. Not only did we participate in this war, but we were officers. People depended on us—kids our age looked at us for guidance.

It was then I realized exactly what the gods were trying to do when they insulted me. They were trying to toughen me up—make me worthy to call myself a leader. They wanted to push me, make me a killing machine, a ruthless monster. After all, a child of Hades should not fear nor embrace death. They should own it.

"You're right," I said. "Let's just—try our best and hop our best is good enough." I paused. "Do you think our best is good enough?"

She seemed to think about her response a second, studying her armor. She wore the leather armor of the archers—a flimsy leather chest-piece (black of course, representing her officer's position), a red ammo belt, and a long black skirt. It was almost as if she had no protection at all. Knowing Estelle, however, she wouldn't need any.

"Well," she said, beginning to tie her hair up, but deciding against it. "I know mine is. I'm perfect, remember?" She gave me a _just kidding _smile and a nudge. It was like the old Estelle was coming back—yet somehow, I didn't mind a bit.

"Aren't you _hilarious?_" I asked sarcastically. She was already done getting ready, and since my uniform was so much more intricate, I wasn't even half way done.

"Of course I am," she winked. She looked at herself in the reflection of a nearby mirror, and was playing with her tangled, messy hair. "I'm going to see if Aphrodite can do a French braid!" She announced, kissed the tips of her fingers, and waved goodbye to me, turning to the goddess of love and beauty.

Aphrodite seemed ecstatic at the chance to do someone's hair. Estelle sat in front of her chair, and Aphrodite went to work, still keeping up the conversation with Apollo. I turned to look at myself in the mirror that Estelle had just been looking at. I slipped my chest-piece over my head, leaving only my helmet and sheath to put on.

My armor was scary looking. Right now, I looked big and buff—which, as pointed out earlier, I wasn't. The armor was mostly black, but the edges and rims were blood red, and I had a reversible cape, which I'm sure by now you could guess the two colors that were on it.

The sword was my favorite of everything. Equipped with a black sheath, its hilt was a skull, and its blade was a metallic light red, kind of pink, with its name scrawled in Greek words across the blade. It took me a second, but, I finally was able to read the word _Deathgrip. _Even the thought of how many people I'd be sending to hell with this thing sent chills down my spine.

I looked at myself. I hardly could recognize the person I saw in the mirror. Not that I looked any different, but I was not the same person I was the last time I was in America. I had changed in Europe. And I wasn't sure if it was for the better. I was doing all the things that I'd cursed so many half-bloods before me for doing. Just giving in, and doing every deed their parents asked. I could see the pull, now, though. I could see why they did it. Almost as if it were competition—the Olympian parent has so many children, how do you know if you stand out? How do you know if you make a difference to them? How do you know if they care? And if you—

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell of joy from the conference behind me. "Penny!"

Uh oh.

I whirled around, almost too femininely, to see what was going on behind me. Penthesilea and Hippolyte had entered from an entrance near where I was standing, and Achilles hopped from his seat. He then went to embrace his long lost love, tripping over the foldable chair, and landing in Estelle's lap. She yelped, pushed him off. He scrambled to his feet, and took off running again.

The two Amazon Queens were wearing the same armor that Estelle and I had on; Penthesilea in the swordsman uniform, and Hippolyte in the cavalry—weapons at their sides. It took me a second to notice, but Achilles had somehow managed to change into his armor without me noticing. I looked around. All the gods and goddesses had changed into battle armor, though, for Aphrodite and Demeter, that was a black and red dress, as they didn't do much fighting on field.

Achilles practically trampled the people who refused to move out of his way on his one-man stampede to Penthesilea. I slowly made my way towards the circle of assorted gods and goddesses.

"Another girl he raped?" Apollo asked bitterly.

"No," Achilles called over to him. "This is one I killed."

The Amazons looked dreadfully uncomfortable as Achilles wrapped each of them in a heartfelt hug. He began making small talk that we couldn't hear from our part of the tent.

"Is your army here yet, Hippolyte?" Athena called. I felt sorry for her. She seemed surrounded by all the dumb deities.

"They are on their way was we speak." Hippolyte left her sister and began to slowly make her way towards us. Her sister looked at her, envious that Achilles would let her slip away.

"What kind of numbers are we talking about?" Hades chimed in.

Hippolyte thought about it, and shrugged. "Seventy-five to a hundred."

"That number is a little low…" Hades sounded disappointed.

"Are you kidding?" Ares demanded. "Seventy-five really angry chicks is more than enough." He crossed his arms over his plated chest.

"Well, at least we know we have plenty of options," Apollo smirked. Hippolyte shot him a glare. "What? I'm just saying…."

"Do not go near my warriors," Hippolyte warned. "They are likely to mangle your male parts until you are a hermaphrodite."

Ares and Apollo exchanged looks of upcoming pain. "I'd like to point out, though," began Aphrodite. "Even with all those women around, I will still be the prettiest." She smiled vainly.

"I beg your pardon!" Demeter cawed. "I believe _that _title is mine. You can certainly say you're the sluttiest broad around here." She laughed, pleased with herself.

"_You?" _ Aphrodite cackled. "Do you _own _a mirror? Or do they all break before you get a chance to fully see yourself in them?"

"Why you—"

_BOOM!_

A flash of lightening exploded and crackled in the suddenly stormy sky, illuminating the tint in its brilliance. Estelle screamed with surprise.

"That's Zeus," Athena said in a low voice. "They're ready for us."

-3-

The sky was darker than I'd ever seen it before. The kind of dark where you can see the sun peering from behind the clouds, but you can barely see the light it's giving off. Lightning struck the sky continuously, a foreboding sign of what was to come.

Our soldiers watched as their officers piled into a large black chariot, made almost entirely of bone. We assembled ourselves in a jumbled rank—Hades and Achilles in the front seat, Estelle, myself, and the Amazons in the second, and in the last two, the gods took their places, three to a seat.

My stomach clenched when I felt the tug of the chariot as the skeletal steeds began to pull us slowly to the council that would determine our fate here. My mind raced through the possibilities of what could happen. There were only a few things I knew for sure—Carter and Alexandria would be there, I would be expected to represent the half-bloods of our army, and I was going to mess up something, somehow. Because that's just me.

As we passed by the soldiers heading out of our camp, they would stop whatever they were doing, and kneel before us. It was very neat to witness that. I'd never felt such…respect. It was something I felt was going to be hard to adjust to.

After we left our cluster of tents we called a campsite, we were in the open space between our camp, and our enemy's.

Hades turned around to face Estelle and I. "Once we get in their camp, make eye contact with no one. Look straight ahead, and be still. Make no noise. We want to intimidate them."

He turned around, and I looked up—only to see the tops of the cabins and the movement of the other soldiers on Half-Blood Hill.

**A/N I was going to make this longer, but I've literally been sitting here all day. I need to move around—after I edit, or course, which I need to make sure I do more often. Anyways, tell me if you think this was a boring waste of my day, because I feel like it is, considering there is no real action in this chapter. **

**Of course, now I feel weird, pointing out all the stuff I think is wrong with my chapter….I'm just going to stop talking now….**


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